Ally?
by recumbentgoat
Summary: Dylan Thin Man rivalry. The Thin Man becomes entangled in an Angels' case. Can Dylan free the Thin Man? Will he let her? Please leave feedback! It'd be greatly appreciated. Thank you.
1. Routine B&E?

Ally? Chapter 1  
  
Presently...  
  
She's seen that look before. At another time, feeling just as vulnerable. Standing in Knox's living room high in the sky, as her fuzzy lover transformed before her very eyes.   
  
And now, walking quickly behind the Thin Man, deep underground with hundreds of feet of cement and earth between her and the outside world, she realized that she might've made a mistake yet again. And who would know? And who could help?  
  
Is that all it takes to win me over? One windswept passionate kiss? Despite disturbing questions about the Thin Man's survival, she had, without a thought, willingly followed him down into the abandoned underground tunnels.  
  
Six months ago...  
  
After the joking, they had stood there on the stage looking down into the hole where Madison had fallen and perished. It was an uneasy silence; as each Angel contemplated what qualities she might have shared with Madison before she had 'turned'.   
  
Could it have just as easily been one of them? Dylan peered over the edge and then looked at her friends. No, Madison was alone. And she was always in control, to the point of never letting anyone in. Dylan had sensed that even though Emmers was Madison's lover, it was unlikely that he was in on what Madison was really thinking.  
  
No, if anything, Dylan thought, I should be worried about me. That could be me down there. Alone and bitter and wanting to make the rest of the world pay for it. She shook off the gloom that settled around her. No, I'm not that angry, not with Nat and Alex and Bosley and Charlie. They're my family and I'm Dylan Saunders, not Helen Zaas.  
  
Dylan looked up as Alex's arm slipped around her shoulders. She smiled at Alex, then bear hugged her and Nat.  
  
Laughing hysterically and yelping occasionally with all the bruises and cuts between them, Nat said, "Let's head over to the clinic and clean up before going to the premiere, ok?"  
  
"Yeah, I'd love to wash the six inches of grime and sweat I've accumulated since this morning," Alex said, "Jason is so excited about his first big movie and with Dad here and all..."  
  
"I know! We need to hurry! Call a taxi and I'll call the authorities to start cleaning up this mess." Dylan needed something to do, anything to keep her mind off what happened on the rooftop. Alex rushed off, heading outside with her cell phone, speaking lowly.  
  
"Dylan, are you ok?" Nat asked, gently pulling Dylan outside, "You can stay home, I would be going home too, but I think Pete's already waiting for me."  
  
"No, no, it's ok. I'm fine," she smiled gamely, "I'll be good to go once I get a hot shower and slip into something pretty." She wanted to be there to celebrate with Nat when Pete broke the big news.  
  
The rest of the night was fun and blessedly uneventful. They had changed and showered at the clinic. Charlie had funded and staffed a 24-hour community clinic for St. Mary's Hospital, in exchange, of course, for round the clock healthcare for his precious Angels.  
  
Dylan smiled as Nat winced when trying to zip up her dress. "Uh, Dylan can you give me a hand?" "Sure, Nat!" "Are we almost ready?," Alex said, anxiously looking at her watch, "the taxi guy's still waiting downstairs and the meter's running!"  
  
And so they had tried to rush out of the clinic; through the hospital to the side entrance, where the taxi was waiting.   
  
Taking a wrong turn, they came across a very polite nun who firmly directed them back from where they came. As they turned the corner, Dylan looked down the corridor to the ER room. Apparently, some poor soul was being worked on feverishly by ER staff. As Nat and Alex hurried outside through the swinging emergency doors, Dylan craned her head and saw a man covered in cement. That poor man, there must have been a construction accident. Was that Czech or Russian they were speaking to him?  
  
Presently...  
  
Dylan stopped and leaned against the tunnel, "Could you slow down for a minute?" "I just want to catch my breath." She wondered if he'd buy that. And the look he gave her said that he didn't, but was willing to be a gentleman and wait. He stood there watching intently as she rubbed her throat, then lit a cigarette.  
  
Standing upright, she started to walk towards the Thin Man. He turned on his heel and quickly strode down the tunnel. That had been him in the ER room, covered in crumbling cement with the nun speaking to him in Romanian. She was sure of it now. So he had landed in cement, was that how he had survived a six story fall?  
  
Smoke filled the tunnel again as the Thin Man lit another cigarette. He stopped abruptly and took a long drag; slowly turning his head to look at her unblinkingly.   
  
She returned his stare, trying not to feel anxious. That look, that's the same look he gave her as he had come into Knox's living room. What did that look mean?  
  
And what was it he had tried to say on the roof? He looked a little different then. Slightly crazed and a little out of control. She of course had been smitten immediately. But now, looking at him looking at her in that coolly appraising way, she felt doubt. The kind of doubt that springs from a lot of stupid, impulsive mistakes. She knew some of it was her fault, feeling this overwhelming need to love and be loved; to be needed and wanted.  
  
He turned his head again and continued walking. They had been down there for five minutes so far. The fight above had been shorter.  
  
Five minutes ago....  
  
Working on a case with Nat and Alex, she was following a lead that led her to a secluded part of town. The lead seemed routine at best, just to break into an office and acquire some more information on a business being used as a front.  
  
She wondered if she was slipping. Why hadn't she noticed or heard those bastards before they snuck up and sucker punched her? She was doing well kicking their asses, until one of them had the bright idea of wrapping an extension cord around her neck. Not panicking, she had clawed at the cord, trying to get her fingers underneath it before it could cut into her throat.  
  
As the other man leapt forward; Dylan grabbed the cord with both hands and lifted her feet off the ground. Stopping his movement with her left foot, she swung her right, connecting with his jaw. Satisfied with the snap she heard from his jaw breaking, she felt the cord suddenly loosen; the man behind her, slacken.  
  
"What's the matter, big boy?" Dylan smirked as she turned.  
  
To see the look of surprise on the man's face as he slowly fell over; the Thin Man calmly jerking the rapier out, slowly wiping the blood off with a starched white clothe.  
  
She barely had time to swallow her surprise and excitement at seeing him alive when they both turned at the sound of a car skidding to a halt outside. Six more men sprang out of the car and the Thin Man grabbed her arm and pulled her to the back of the building.   
  
As she started to move with him, he stopped by the groaning man with the broken jaw, and let go of her arm.  
  
"What the hell are you doing? Let's go!"  
  
Ignoring her, he flipped him over; plunged the point into the man's heart, keeping a firm grip on his victim's neck as the Thin Man choked him simultaneously.  
  
It was strange to see, but the dying man seemed to exhale white vapour, as if on a cold, cold day.   
  
The Thin Man inhaled deeply and as the sound of men coming down the hall came closer, he stood up, grabbed Dylan and continued to the back. They passed a few doors, then found the emergency exit staircase. They were running full tilt now, down the stairs, into the basement; down narrow tunnels with leaky and steaming pipes.  
  
He was ahead of her a good six feet, his long legs easily covering ground. Coming to a halt in front of a nondescript black door in the corner behind a huge ventilation pipe, he yanked the door open and roughly shoved her inside.  
  
She kept running down the stairs, trying to keep her sneaker treads from getting stuck in between the steel grated stairs. She was ahead of him and running down an even wider corridor. She had no idea where she was going...  
  
Presently...  
  
As they walked, Dylan noticed he was taking quicker drags from his cigarette. What is he up to? And that look, why is he looking at me like that? Standing there in that tunnel so near to him, she became unnerved. This is the second time he's risked his neck to save mine and the last time he died-or so I thought. Dylan looked at his back.  
  
The Thin Man stopped again and started to pace, puffing rather cutely on his cigarette. She almost smiled at that, but dropped it as he looked at her again. Those eyes, those damned eyes. She let her gaze slip away. I can't even maintain eye contact. But she was hesitant to trust him, Seamus and Knox had both thrown her for a loop. She wasn't about to risk trusting someone like him. Especially one who played his cards so close to his chest.  
  
She started to turn around and walk back, but let herself be stopped. "Do you think they're still up there? Do you think that it's safe to go back?"  
  
He glanced at the length of the tunnel, his grip on her arms tight. Then he looked down at her from his great height, light blue eyes slightly narrowed. Dylan jumped as she felt his hand go around her neck. She closed her eyes and stopped breathing for a moment, keeping very still.  
  
Her throat was aching and on fire; a long thin purple bruise was forming like a grotesque necklace. He rubbed it a little and she swore her heart stopped as his fingers started to squeeze. His hand was so warm, she started to feel drowsy.  
  
Dylan's neck felt cold as she realized he had taken his hand away. She rubbed her neck, pain fading away. Looking up at him she muttered stupidly, "Thanks." She couldn't quite understand how he did that.  
  
She continued heading down the tunnel, back from where they had come, but was stopped again. He motioned her to stay there and ran back down the tunnel.  
  
"Hey, wait," she loudly whispered. Damn, he was already at the other end of the tunnel. Boy, he sure can move. Dylan leaned against the wall of the tunnel. And then leapt to her feet as she heard a man's piercing scream.  
  
Startled, she ran down the tunnel away from the scream and the ensuing sounds of a fight. If those six guys overcame the Thin Man, then they'd be heading down here.  
  
She kept running, covering her ears; the sounds of unearthly screams and cries of dying men ringing off the grey cement walls.  
  
Stopping at what appeared to be an intersection of several tunnels, she thought for a moment of which way to go. Had the Thin Man been nervous about being followed? A slight shudder passed through her as she realized that he must have laid a trap for those thugs. Knowing that they would follow them underground, he had waited until they were too far inside to run back to the surface. To the outside and to safety.  
  
The tunnel on the far left seemed a good possibility. Ok, should I find his lair, just out of curiousity or try and find a way out? Running down her chosen tunnel, she turned left and came up smack against a dead end. Quickly stepping backward, she turned and bumped into the Thin Man's chest. 


	2. Close

Chapter 2  
  
Although she wasn't the kind of person to become easily mortified- she was now. Especially with her chest bunched up against the Thin Man's sternum.   
  
Your slipping again, Dylan thought, how is it that he snuck up on me  
  
without hearing him? He was breathing hard and his eyes were  
  
bloodshot. Looking down at her again it was almost like that day on  
  
the rooftop.  
  
She stepped back quickly, anything to lessen the contact between  
  
them. The Thin Man leaned forward as she moved, her back suddenly  
  
hitting the dead end she'd forgotten about. He was staring fixedly into her eyes. Not in that strange way he had earlier-she was starting to decipher his looks. No, this was definitely an "I'm about to kiss you  
  
like on the roof" kind of looks and her heart thumped. But her stomach also plunged as she remembered how his rapier had suddenly erupted from his chest. She closed her eyes to the memory and put her hands on the cool dry cement behind her.  
  
He raised his arms and planted them on each side of her; a small cage,  
  
with her as Tweety. That fine aquiline nose, so sharp; I wonder if  
  
anyone told him that his nose is like his rapier she thought distractedly. His cold blue eyes open, he lowered his head; his kiss, slow and dry, feeling the texture of her lips.   
  
The butterflies in her stomach glided into her heart; newfound  
  
reserve weakening. She slipped her tongue inside his cool mouth and  
  
felt a sigh escape him. He responded by grabbing her hips and  
  
deepening his kiss, as her hands grasped his shoulders. Her fingers  
  
lightly skimmed the surface of his suit, her fingertips tingling  
  
slightly as they ran over the fine textured fabric, grabbing his lower  
  
arms.  
  
...her right hand froze in a tight squeeze on his wet left forearm.   
  
Dylan's eyes popped open to find the Thin Man already looking at her,  
  
his eyes wide.  
  
Dylan immediately let go of his arm as the Thin Man simultaneously  
  
jerked it away and took a step back. She looked down at her bloodied  
  
hand. My God, she thought, his arm must be drenched in the stuff.  
  
"What happened back there? Why did you kill those men? Especially,  
  
that other one, that way? Are you involved with the case that I'm  
  
working on? Do you have information for me?" With each question, the Thin Man took a step back. "Look, look, Anthony!"  
  
With the sound of his given name from the orphanage, he stopped and  
  
gave her a surprised look. Ah, there we go, she thought, it's amazing  
  
how having someone's name can give you an advantage. "Listen to me,"  
  
she reached her hand out as if to calm him, "I'm sorry about all the  
  
questions, but I can't help you if..."  
  
He was backing away again and suddenly turned on his heel and ran down  
  
the tunnel. "Shit! Anthony!!!" Dylan ran after him and emerged from  
  
the dead end. Hearing receding footsteps from the left of the  
  
corridor, she raced after him. Ok, what's wrong with this picture?  
  
He just killed a bunch of thugs without a second thought and now he was running away from me of all people!  
  
Slowing down, she realized she lost the direction the footsteps were running in. A loud clang reverberated for a few unnerving seconds until silence.   
  
She was annoyed. Annoyed that the Thin Man couldn't trust her. Annoyed that she was now probably a mile underground and couldn't find her way out. Annoyed that she'll be going back to the agency empty handed.  
  
Damn! She looked around, dread filling her as she'd have to re-trace her steps back from where they came. She steeled herself for what she might find when she'd pass by those bodies.  
  
Who were those guys? And what the hell happened up in that office?   
  
She had more questions to answer now than when she started out  
  
this morning; just great.   
  
I want answers. Tomorrow I find out the connection between the Thin Man and this case. I want answers and I want to know how he survived that fall from the roof. Dylan knew that she would have to start at the orphanage again. She debated whether it would be official or not. Perhaps if she did a little B&E, she could find the records the nuns kept on him.  
  
Walking back out the way she came, she started to run. She slowed a  
  
little as the sight ahead came into clearer view. The yellow light  
  
cast from the flickering fluorescents lent the already macabre scene a  
  
surrealness. Just a lot of dark wet stuff pooled here and  
  
there and-and lots of bits and pieces. Jesus! It was all she could  
  
think as she looked around. Those men were- had- been men, now just bits and pieces.  
  
Understanding that this could be her one opportunity for a good lead,  
  
she reached into her denim jacket and pulled out a pen and a plastic  
  
bag. Originally, she had planned on using the bag to protect any  
  
important files she found upstairs and the pen to take notes.   
  
*********  
  
The pen was being used for a more gruesome task now: shifting around bits and pieces; lifting jackets to look for wallets. Dylan worked  
  
methodically; looking for id's and anything else that might be  
  
interesting. Of the remains, she could only determine that four were  
  
originally men. What happened to the other two? She knew that the  
  
Thin Man must have killed all of them. He didn't seem the kind who'd not be thorough. The back of her neck prickled a little at this thought.  
  
Whatever these guys wanted, the Thin Man wasn't giving it up easily.   
  
Was this a job that had gone bad for him? Had he backed out on  
  
something? Renege on a deal? Who did he do business with in the past?  
  
She turned to move to the other side of the corridor, noting that a  
  
faint burnt scent lingered in the air. In the shadows, on the wall,  
  
she could see a faint, dark and round outline. Stooping down, she ran  
  
her index finger across part of it. Soot. Riiiight. So he immolated  
  
them on the spot? It was the only explanation that she could come up  
  
with; given the strange way in which he had killed the man upstairs,  
  
she found it easy to accept the fact that the Thin Man may have burnt  
  
these two to a crisp.   
  
Sometimes the impossible is a lot easier to accept than coming up with  
  
some crazy rationale. She stood up and wiped her finger on her jacket. Her right hand was still caked with dried blood, but she hadn't dared to wipe them on her pants. Especially since she had borrowed them from Alex.  
  
Her baggie filled with id's and some personal effects from the  
  
remains; she turned to leave. Her eye caught a glint of something on  
  
the ground near the soot mark.  
  
Covered in grime, it looked like it had been dropped into the corner.  
  
It had almost escaped her notice, had it not been for the small  
  
pendant attached. Picking up the necklace with her hand, she held it  
  
up to look at properly.  
  
It looked silver and had an amazingly delicate design for both the  
  
chain and the pendant. The kind of necklace a woman might wear  
  
though, not some thug. It was beautiful but strange looking, with the chain in the shape of a snake. Its head biting its tail to form the clasp; the pendant, a tiny ball.  
  
Great, more questions, Dylan thought grumpily. She put the necklace  
  
in her pocket and headed upstairs. Tomorrow she would have a long  
  
talk with everyone at the agency. She wanted to get to the bottom of  
  
this case quickly. With the Thin Man involved like this, it made her  
  
uneasy. 


	3. The Morning After

Chapter 3: The Morning After  
  
The dream always starts out the same way: he's standing on the roof,  
  
up in the scaffolding, looking down at the one called Alex. He's  
  
begrudgingly impressed by her speed, and remembers the last time he  
  
faced this Angel.   
  
As the scene unfolds on the roof, he gets restless watching Alex  
  
slowly gain the upper hand. He wants to join the fray and is torn  
  
between continuing his fight with the Angels and finishing off the  
  
threat to Max.   
  
The Angels look hopelessly outnumbered, but seem to hold their  
  
own. He bides his time, looking over Alex, then Nat, his hand lightly  
  
on the rapier still in its sheathe.  
  
He cranes his neck around part of the scaffolding to gain a better  
  
view of the fight-where is Dylan? A reddish brown lock of hair juts  
  
from his breast pocket like a rose; he inhales deeply, the delicate  
  
scent calming his nerves. He decides to make his move, jumping down  
  
onto the roof and quickly dispatching a sneaky bastard behind a very  
  
shocked Alex.   
  
The Thin Man slowly turns over in his sleep; his mind knowing   
  
this is familiar territory. His heart rate speeds up a bit as  
  
he remembers the fall-how free he felt in the moments before he hit  
  
the ground. Blackness-terrible and suffocating, not being able to  
  
move. Every muscle in his body paralyzed. Dylan's sweet face above  
  
his, her mouth open and contorted in pain as blood drips onto his face.  
  
No, no. He tries to look away. His head twists into the  
  
pillow and his eyes fly open. No! He sits up, trying to catch his breath.  
  
No, that's not what happened! He shut his eyes and tried to erase  
  
the dream by recalling the kiss last night.   
  
His mind jerks away at Dylan's horrified look  
  
as she stares at her bloodied hand. No, no.  
  
He takes a deep breath. No. This is what happened: she had looked at  
  
him, a small expectant smile on her face. Her smile was like Mona  
  
Lisa's; he wondered if anyone had ever told her that. He felt himself  
  
relax a little.   
  
The ugly dream was fading and he let himself dwell on the real memory  
  
of that night.  
  
He had woken from his stupor-stunned and hurt badly, with a start.   
  
Seamus had fallen on top of him, his body pierced by the rapier like a  
  
club sandwich. The Thin Man couldn't move his arms or his legs or his  
  
head. He had never felt so vulnerable in his entire life, his body  
  
spread eagled and half submerged in quick drying concrete.   
  
It was only a small bit of fortune, and he remembered laughing  
  
uncontrollably at his predicament. The concrete was already starting  
  
to set and he was stuck fast. What to do? What to do? His mind was  
  
fading fast-  
  
The Thin Man clenched his fist as he remembered Dylan's face just  
  
before he had fallen-that had been his only comfort as he lay there.   
  
That she felt enough about him to show so much pain on her face.   
  
Seamus paid for that-he had lived like an animal and the Thin Man had  
  
made sure that he died like one.  
  
He smiled as he remembered Seamus in his death throes. Yes, blood had  
  
dripped onto his face, but not from Dylan. No, not from Dylan; but  
  
from a dying Seamus, whose body twitched and jerked as he hemorrhaged blood; eyes welling up with red.  
  
First he had taunted the Irishman. Flooding the weak fool's brain  
  
with images of walking away without a scratch. Deluding him into  
  
thinking that everything was fine-that he had even succeeded in  
  
killing the Angels and Dylan. Then, summoning all his strength, the Thin Man willed Seamus to look into his eyes-  
  
The Thin Man shivered as he recalled pulling Seamus' life  
  
force from his body. His bloodied, stunned face had suddenly dried  
  
and scabbed, then crumbled into dust; swirling away in a passing  
  
breeze.  
  
He had lain there for quite some time before he heard sirens. The  
  
energy from Seamus was strong and he could feel his body start to heal  
  
quickly. He would still need time to recuperate. Watching over Max  
  
had not left time or opportunity to keep himself as strong as he  
  
should have-   
  
But he had let himself be taken to St. Mary's, knowing that the nuns  
  
would be obliged to take him in and care for him. He knew that they  
  
in turn, would inform the mother superior at the orphanage. He almost  
  
smiled at the memory of the nuns and their stern visages as the  
  
Romanian interpreter had crossed herself repeatedly and called him the  
  
devil.  
  
He had counted on Mother Superior to take over his care-although  
  
relations were strained at this time with her, he knew that she was a  
  
good woman and loyal to him. And he was grateful at least for  
  
that-for the time being they were even. The time for settling old  
  
business would come again.  
  
He got up from the bed and looked at his suit. He had tried to get  
  
the blood from out of the arms-and from around the legs.   
  
Embarrassment reddened his ears as he remembered Dylan's look, though they had both enjoyed that kiss. He sighed. It seemed like they would always be on opposite sides.  
  
He pulled the lock of Dylan's hair from his breast pocket and inhaled  
  
deeply. It was getting to the point though that just a breath wasn't  
  
enough to keep him calm. It was as if she was turning into an  
  
antidote to the growing disease in his soul.  
  
The lock still pressed to his nose and mouth, he stopped as his mind  
  
took hold of an idea. Perhaps she could help him further. She could  
  
go where I can't, to help me-but would she? He had sensed her  
  
hesitation towards him; her demeanor was tentative at first. But her  
  
kiss-he sighed again as he remembered how she had grabbed him, her tongue like fire-  
  
He shook his head as he walked to the sink to splash cold water onto  
  
his face. He would have to stop thinking like this or he would never  
  
be able to leave the place. Perhaps it was time to visit his Dylan on ground more comfortable to her. 


	4. Surprise

Chapter 4: The Morning After continued-  
  
Dylan plopped on the couch at the agency and yawned hugely. She was tired and grubby and irritable. The night before had been extremely taxing and had spent most of it driving back home. Knowing she'd never wake up in time for her meeting with Bos and the girls, she had turned her little Toyota pickup truck around and headed for the agency.  
  
And it was just as well that she hadn't bothered going home, since there was a lot to be done. She wound up working through the night in the lab; dusting the ids for fingerprints and getting samples ready for DNA testing. She had nodded off a bit on the phone to the FBI's office, waiting to speak to the agent on duty, but she managed to keep herself awake long enough to email the fingerprints to them.   
  
It would probably take a day for the FBI to run the prints through their database; in the meantime, she would scope out the addresses on the ids. She was confident the names were aliases, but the addresses might be genuine.  
  
So, when morning came, she tiredly stomped upstairs to the Bosleys' office and plopped her weak self down. Bosley himself had taken the day off, but his brother, Bos, was filling in. Dylan looked over the office and noticed the small changes that Bos had added. She smiled at how both the Bosleys had managed to settle into a unique job share arrangement. Bosley taking over most of the undercover work and Bos mostly bookkeeping and maintaining informant contacts; even Max had gotten into the act, helping out in a kind of after school internship.  
  
And the added hands helped for everyone, especially for Bosley who seemed content to have his brothers there. He was much more confident about going undercover now, not as distracted, not as much nervous fumbling. Guess even a little thing like bookkeeping can keep someone distracted, Dylan thought with a snort.  
  
"Well, well, well," Bos boomed, laughing at Dylan's startled jump, "look what the cat dragged in and so early in the morning!" He dropped onto the couch next to Dylan, causing her whole body to pop off the seat because of his large frame.  
  
He leaned close and said loudly, "So, did we go out and paint the town red, have a little too much wine, women and song? Well, scratch that second one. Look at you, all tired and rumpled, girl you need proper rest."  
  
"Thanks, Bos, and no, there was no wine, definitely no women and no song. Let's just say I had a very, very long and disturbing night. But, ya gotta wait until Nat and Alex get here, 'cuz it's a doozy." With a long sigh, she shut her eyes and let her head fall with a thump on the back of the couch.  
  
"Ok, kid have it your way," Bos said as he stood up and walked to the office kitchen, "want decaf or regular?" "Regular!!"  
  
And so Nat and Alex came in an hour later; Nat perky as usual and laughing at Dylan's sprawled form on the couch, "Boy, we had a late night didn't we?"  
  
Alex, of course, just smirked and then, in mock anger, slapped Dylan's thigh, "Hey, those are my pants!"   
  
"You don't even wear these pants anymore, you said they were too big!" Dylan rubbed her stinging thigh, wincing.   
  
"Well, I want my fat pants back!" Alex and Nat laughed hard as Dylan hit Alex with a couch pillow.   
  
"Just for that, you aren't getting these back! And I was so careful not to get any blood on them." It was Dylan's turn to laugh as Alex and Nat's smiling expressions dropped to serious on a dime.  
  
Waving off their concerned inquiries, Dylan said, "Let's just get started since I think this case is going to be very twisted." By this time Bos had settled into his chair behind the desk sipping from his mug. "There's coffee in the kitchen, if you ladies want to help yourself. Dylan, why don't you share with us what happened last night?"  
  
"It started off as just the usual thing-" "Don't they always?" Nat interjected, filling two mugs with coffee.   
  
"Yeah, well bumping into Creepy Thin Man isn't like always, is it?"   
  
The office went silent as the other three exchanged wide-eyed looks. "What the hell do you mean?" Alex demanded. "We all saw him take that dive off the roof." She looked shaken; she had remembered how he seemed to just appear on the roof. And how he had saved her life during the shocked moment she'd gaped at him.   
  
Everyone sat there, digesting this bit of information. "How?" Nat asked. "I have no idea," Dylan said, "but he's definitely tangled up in this case and not in a good way."  
  
"How do you mean?" Alex said.  
  
Dylan related the whole story, leaving out the strange parts (and the good part!) and kept to the straightforward facts.  
  
"So, forgetting about how this cat survived this fall," Bos started to say. "Well, I have a theory about that," Dylan interrupted, "the night of the premiere at the hospital I saw a man covered in drying cement in the ER. And given that the nurse was speaking in what I assume to be Romanian, I'm guessing that was him."  
  
"And Seamus, did he survive?" Nat asked worriedly. "I talked to the police and there was no trace of his body," Dylan shrugged.  
  
"Jesus! This is getting weird!" Alex folded her arms and stared at the coffee table tapping her foot agitatedly.   
  
Alex, Nat and Dylan started to talk about their respective nights and between the three of them sketched out a rough idea of what might be going on: Alex had found out that several properties, including the abandoned office, was in fact owned by one corporation, Dinex Corp.  
  
"Dinex? What do they do?" Dylan asked. "It's biotech research," Alex replied. "But there's no real company, it just all on paper."  
  
Nat had spent yesterday afternoon, speaking with the client, who was actually the state attorney general. Frequently, Townsend Agency took on consulting work from the state in between regular paying clients. "Apparently, since this company has been investigated before for wire fraud, the AG feels that this company could be a front for smuggling," Nat reported.  
  
"Smuggling what?" Dylan asked. "Well, the usual thing: guns, small arms, high tech weaponry," Nat replied, "we're here to determine those connections and investigate further the leads the AG has given us. And given what happened to Dylan, we can assume that we are making someone somewhere squirm."  
  
"But where does Creepy Thin Man fit in?" Bos wondered, "is, or rather was, he working for this Dinex? And if that's the case, how do we get him to talk to us?"  
  
"Well, if he had some sort of deal with them-it is definitely over. Those men were slaughtered and," Dylan shivered, "and I don't know if I want to know how the deal went wrong."  
  
"But he's strictly specialized in assassination," Alex said, "I just can't see him as brokering any kind of deal."   
  
"Maybe he's sorta on the straight and narrow, I mean besides the killing part, he may be trying to extract himself from previous work relationships," said Bos.  
  
Nat looked at Dylan, "Dylan, I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to pursue him and find out his role in all of this-" Her eyes were smiling as she added, "besides, you seemed to have such an affect on him."  
  
Dylan and Bos laughed as Alex said, "I don't know about this-he did a lot for us and certainly sacrificed himself in order to save Dylan and Max," Bos nodded at this, "but we can't forget who we are dealing with here. And despite his good deeds for the orphanage, his motives are completely unpredictable."  
  
Dylan sighed, " I know!" "Remember that he saw Knox shoot you that night," Alex added. "And despite the fact that he saved my life, I can't say for sure that I'd trust him to be on our side on this one."  
  
"No, you're right," Dylan sighed again deeply. "I have some leads with the stuff I found last night, but," she yawned as she got up stretching her arms, " I gots to get some rest!"  
  
"Ok, meeting adjourned!" Bos said, "We all have our angles to pursue, so I'll contact Charlie and give him an update." He picked up the phone and started dialing. Nat, Alex and Dylan moved towards the door.  
  
"Listen, Dylan," Nat said draping her arm around Dylan's shoulder, "Alex is right." Alex lifted an eyebrow. "You've got to be careful; we don't want anything bad to happen."  
  
"He's not going to do anything, for God's sake, he did save my life, you know," Dylan said huffily, remembering his late night kiss.  
  
"Oh, we know that," Alex smiled wickedly, "we just know your track record and don't want you to fall in his evil clutches. So, did you kiss him again?"  
  
"No, sorry, he was too busy killing people," Dylan shot back, "oh, jeez, I almost forgot! I found this by-" She dug into her jeans and pulled out the necklace, "two of the fire spots, but I didn't have time to study it."  
  
"Give it here," said Nat, her hand outstretched, "I'll take a look at it this afternoon and let you know what I find out about it. You" she poked Dylan in the chest, "go home and get some rest. We'll call you tomorrow."  
  
With that, Dylan waved her good-byes and left the two Angels in the foyer as she trudged out to her truck.  
  
Staggering up the stairs to her walk-up later, she felt her shoulders sag as the sleepless hours started to catch up with her. Shower, then bed; shower, then bed. The mantra helped her focus on not just collapsing on the couch and sleeping like a log.  
  
She started to strip as soon as she locked the door behind her; dropping her shirt, peeling off her socks and kicking off her pants. Stepping into the shower, she turned on the water as hot as she could get it. Forgetting that she hadn't taken her underwear off and whimpering with exhaustion, she peeled off the wet garment and heaved it over the side. It made a nice heavy splat on the tile and she luxuriated under the beating stream of the showerhead.   
  
Feeling refreshed, she towelled off roughly and started to rummage through the bathroom drawer looking for her brush. She knew that tomorrow would be a big day, her leads would become more concrete with the help of the FBI and she was confident that the Angels would find a lot more answers.  
  
Padding into the hall, she clutched at the towel draped loosely around her torso. She sniffed a little, wondering if something was burning and opened the door to her room.  
  
She stood frozen at the sight of the Thin Man standing there in the middle of her room. Her hairbrush in his hand, tapping the side of his long leg; his cigarette hand paused mid-air. Her eyes glanced over to the bed and saw an indent. He had been resting there before, waiting for her.   
  
She looked back up at him, unable to move as she watched him take a slow drag from his cigarette. He was in full Thin Man regalia today; his black pinstriped suit and hair perfect. His shoes shined, his cane tucked neatly under his arm. There was nothing nervous or rushed about the way he held that cigarette. No, he looked very calm, unnervingly so, as he stood in front of her bed, watching her watch him.  
  
Dylan felt an uncomfortable sense of deja vu, as his assessing look swept over her. This was the look he had given her that night at Knox's and as they were walking down into the tunnels last night. She was beginning to think this was his "thinking" look.  
  
Getting pissed at her predicament, and his audacity; she stalked over to him and grabbed the brush out of his hand. "Could you make sure the door is locked when you leave?" She knew that he was here for something else other than just checking her out. But she was too tired to figure out what that was yet.  
  
He reached over and took her shoulders firmly in his hands and pulled her close to him. So, this is what he wants, she thought sluggishly to herself, as his lips lowered onto her mouth. Numbly, she dropped her towel to wrap her arms around the Thin Man's waist.   
  
And with that, her mind slipped into darkness as her body succumbed to sleep and to the Thin Man's kisses. 


	5. Closer

Chapter 5  
  
The Thin Man deepened his kiss as he felt the Angel go slack in his  
  
arms, her eyes drifted shut; her jaw slack. Long arms wrapped around  
  
her body, his fingertips brushing the swell of her breasts. As soon  
  
as he had touched her, he knew that she had stayed up all night  
  
working to unravel the mystery in which he was entangled.  
  
He suddenly held her close; his nose buried deeply in her hair,  
  
inhaling. He started to tremble and wondered if he made a mistake  
  
coming here. But he brushed it aside and lifted her off  
  
the ground enough to lay her gently on the bed.  
  
His hand gently cupped the side of her face as he sat on the edge of  
  
the bed. She had been angry with him for being there, but still  
  
kissed him back. She had recognized the look he had given her  
  
earlier as the same one that he'd given her at Knox's. He was deeply  
  
regretful and felt helpless in hoping to try and explain it to her.  
  
Her hair was fanned out on the pillow and the Thin Man leaned forward  
  
to smell it. This was so much better than her hairbrush. This was  
  
fresh and vibrant, while the hair on the brush, while pleasant, had  
  
been muted.  
  
He leaned back and looked at her body; she was like a living Raphael  
  
painting. No, she was Botticelli's Venus. Every part of her body was  
  
perfect, and he smiled slightly as he saw the varying shades of tan  
  
around her thighs and shoulders; then leaned forward and planted a  
  
kiss on her very white stomach.  
  
Her freshly scrubbed scent was overwhelming and the Thin Man wished  
  
that she was awake. He lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek;  
  
so cool to the touch. His body started to shake. Why was he  
  
torturing himself?  
  
He stood up and started to pace in the small room. He had come here  
  
looking for one thing and found that he couldn't bring himself to  
  
leave her side. He wanted her. Just like when he saw her in Knox's living room.  
  
He started to take a cigarette out of his case, but then stopped  
  
himself. He didn't NEED to smoke one of these now; no, he was doing  
  
this out of habit. Snapping the case shut, he searched within himself  
  
for a craving and found that he only craved her. Being close to her  
  
made it easier for him, calmer even; but it also made him want her  
  
more. He wanted to consume her soul.  
  
He stopped circling the foot of the bed and came to a decision. He  
  
glided forward and brushed his lips across her own. He noticed the  
  
yellowing bruises on her body from last night and the dark circles  
  
under her eyes. Laying himself on top of her, his right leg in  
  
between hers, he rested himself on his elbows and opened his mouth;  
  
leaning forward again, as if to kiss her.  
  
He didn't move for a few seconds, but his body trembled from the  
  
effort he was exerting. Slowly, a tip of vaporous smoke snaked its  
  
way down from his mouth. Twin feathery rivulets dropped from his  
  
flaring nostrils to join it. It hung there for a moment, gaining some  
  
heft and swelling into a small shimmering mass. It moved back and  
  
forth, like a wave; pushed to and fro by Dylan's shallow breathing.  
  
The Thin Man's hand gently lowered Dylan's jaw a little. The smoky,  
  
milky cloud drifted slowly towards her mouth. Suddenly, she breathed  
  
in deep and the Thin Man's eyes rolled back.  
  
He felt his mind plunge into Dylan's; for a moment, his body twitched  
  
at the contact he made with her senses. He slumped over her torso,  
  
exhausted and numb with pleasure, he slipped into sleep.  
  
******  
  
Dylan opened her eyes and felt the best she's felt in a long time. She  
  
looked down from the ceiling, well, considering that a known assassin was sleeping quite restfully on her stomach. He shifted a little and his hand dropped into contact with her bare thigh. A flood of  
  
intense sensation seized her brain and her body clenched and twitched  
  
until it faded, leaving her panting.  
  
Ok, I've been with my share of guys and I'd have to say that was a  
  
first for me. Dylan wondered if anything else had happened last  
  
night, but couldn't remember. All that she could recall was kissing  
  
him. Wow, that was some kiss! Dylan looked over at the Thin Man,  
  
still completely dressed, his tie and jacket askew; resting flat on  
  
his back, completely dead to the world.  
  
Whatever happened seemed to be pretty good for him too. Shaking her  
  
head, she quietly eased herself off the bed and walked into the living  
  
room. It was night and she could hear crickets just outside her window.  
  
Now that she felt better, in fact, better than better; like she could  
  
stay up for days and days and fly and climb mountains  
  
and....and....she had to go pee.   
  
Later, while washing her hands, she noticed some things in the  
  
bathroom had been moved a little. So, he was here for something  
  
else. He's looking for it, but what?  
  
Curious, she went back to the living room to check on the door. The  
  
night air was cool on her still bare skin. Looking closely at the  
  
edge of the door, she determined it hadn't been jimmied open. Her  
  
apartment was about two stories up, a straight drop to the ground.   
  
And the windows were locked from the inside. Despite a narrow  
  
ventilation shaft in the bathroom, this apartment was shut tight. So,  
  
how the hell did he get inside? And why am I craving a cigarette?   
  
She hadn't smoked for quite sometime; the cigarettes were bad for you  
  
and Nat and Alex strongly suggested she give up the habit. Besides,  
  
Alex had put her on a strict budget that wouldn't allow her to blow $4  
  
on a pack.   
  
But, she was prepared for such an emergency and headed into the  
  
kitchen where she rummaged around and found her stash of one slightly  
  
bent cigarette. She lit up and stood there in the dark, contemplating  
  
her current situation with the Thin Man.  
  
She needed to know what he was looking for; somehow, what was  
  
important for him to recover must also be important to this case. She  
  
blew out a smoke ring contentedly towards the floor; still feeling the  
  
buzz of the afterglow.   
  
As the smoke dissipated, large shiny black shoes appeared. She looked  
  
up the length of miles of black pinstripe into the face of the Thin  
  
Man. Oddly enough, he wasn't smoking, but stood there gazing at her.  
  
He had managed to get himself together again: hair slicked back down,  
  
tie and jacket set straight. Dylan tried to be nonchalant about  
  
standing around naked in her kitchen with a fully dressed Thin Man;  
  
his cane hanging from his arm.  
  
"So," Dylan said,"now you know what Knox knows." At the mention of  
  
Knox's name, the Thin Man breathed in sharply and looked up at the  
  
ceiling. Ooo, he's uncomfortable and is being such a gentleman to ignore that comment. Dylan got an ashtray, stalling for time and wondering how to approach him.   
  
Flicking her cigarette into the ashtray, Dylan decided to take a  
  
gamble,"You don't seem to be the type who'd sleep with someone to get  
  
what they wanted." The Thin Man drew himself up angrily and slammed  
  
his cane down on the kitchen counter between them. Dylan tensed, her  
  
fingers squeezing the cigarette's filter as she looked into the eyes of  
  
a very offended Thin Man.  
  
"I don't have what you're looking for," she pressed. At that, the Thin  
  
Man glared at her and whirled on his heel towards her strewn clothes.  
  
Following him, she watched fascinated as he methodically picked up  
  
her jeans and turned out her pockets; doing the same with her jacket.  
  
It was an odd sight that she would have smiled at had she not been  
  
alarmed by the way he angrily threw the jacket onto the ground.  
  
He was breathing heavily and opened his mouth, turning to face her.   
  
Air rushed out of his dry throat as he tried to speak.   
  
"Wh...Whe...WHERE?!" He was severely agitated and Dylan marveled at  
  
how quickly he had gone from cool to hot in three seconds flat. Not good.  
  
She walked into her room and started to pull out clothes from her  
  
bureau. It must be the necklace he's after...but how can I stall him  
  
until I find out the signifigance of it first?   
  
He was right there behind her as she was struggling into her bra. His  
  
body pressed up against her, arms trapping her on both sides. Her  
  
skin prickled as the suit's fabric brushed against her back; the  
  
buttons cold on her warm skin. They both looked at each other in  
  
the mirror. He nestled his lips into the crook of her neck. Slowly  
  
his eyes looked up at her.   
  
His lips had touched her skin and he knew. Nat. The necklace was  
  
with Nat at the agency. 


	6. Attack of the Thin Man

Chapter 6  
  
"Nat? Hi, where are you?" Dylan struggled to pull on some jeans; cell phone sandwiched between her head and shoulder. "Oh, good. Listen, call Alex and meet me down at the agency. We're about to get raided by the Thin Man."  
  
Not bothering with socks, she jumped into her sneakers; wriggling into them while shuffling to the door to unlock it. "I'll tell you the whole story when I see you," yeah, right Dylan thought, "but, he's after the necklace; somehow, it's key and he wants it real, real bad."   
  
Quickly stooping to pick up her jacket where the Thin Man had thrown it, she bounded out the door and down the stairs. She looked at her watch. Only a little after 8pm; depending on traffic she'd get there in half an hour.  
  
Hopping into her truck, she revved it up and screeched out of the driveway. She was dreading this confrontation with him; but felt helpless to prevent it. She'd felt that he was looking for help of some kind; help from her, but, of course, she had no idea what that was: being the Thin Man, one couldn't just sit down and have a normal conversation with him. She looked at her watch again and tapped nervously on the wheel. The Thin Man had touched her....and she had closed her eyes....When she had turned to face him, he was already gone.   
  
And how'd he get out so quickly? Dylan recalled unlocking the door and her skin crawled. Now she was afraid, afraid of what that necklace meant to him and why he wanted it so badly. Marveling at how he must of missed it during the fight with those men in the tunnels, she figured he must have been distracted by her presence.  
  
Do I really have that kind of affect on him? Can I use that to my advantage if things suddenly went bad? How far is he willing to take this?  
  
Disturbed at where her questions were taking her, she got Nat again on the speed dial and hooked it up to the speakerphone. "Nat! Did you find anything out about this necklace!"  
  
"Hi! Yeah, once I cleaned it off. It's a beautiful piece of craftmanship," Nat gushed, "originally I thought it was silver, but it's made out of platinum. The clasp is shaped into a snake's tail and head, with the head biting the tail, the body an intricate chain. And get this, there's this darling little apple dangling from it."   
  
"Hmm...who made it?" "Not, sure. But the jeweler I spoke to was very,very interested in purchasing it. Apparently it's very popular with these New Age-y types who think that it can imbue their souls with some all knowing power."  
  
Greaaat, Dylan thought, so our little assassin is bent on attaining some omniscient, all-powerful talisman. She doubted....no, strike that. Given what had happened the night before, she didn't have to believe the necklace actually had some kind of supernatural power; it was enough that the Thin Man believed it. "Nat, let's meet down the street from the agency, I don't want to go roaring up in there. A stealthy approach is what we need."  
  
"How much lead time did he get on you? And how'd you track him down?" "Oh, uh, it was pretty easy. And he got about a five minute start on me, not sure what he's driving," if he's freakin' drivin' at all, she thought.  
  
The whole truth wasn't as forthcoming as she wanted, but she was reluctant to tell Nat everything and especially wasn't going to tell Alex. But, Dylan sighed, she wouldn't have to bother since Alex had a way of seeing right through her. Damn her, Dylan thought begrudgingly, why does she have to be so observant!  
  
Pulling over to the side of the street, she killed her engine and shut out her lights; she had hung up the phone once she saw Nat's car on the road. Quietly getting out of the car, she walked over to Nat . "Where's Alex?" said Dylan. "Damn! I didn't tell her to meet us here!"   
  
Nat and Dylan broke out into a quick run and soon had the agency in their sight. The building was dark and they went around the back to the side door. "Does this mean we have to break into our own office?" Dylan whispered incredulously. "Well, we don't have much of a choice, since that's what Alex would probably do," Nat replied, easing her key into the lock. "Where'd you put it?" "In the safe." Yeah, safe. Right, Dylan thought.  
  
They were inside now and the hall cast strange shadows from the moonlight. They moved quickly into the foyer and started to head downstairs. Dylan saw someone standing in the shadows behind one of the columns. She pulled on Nat's arm and pointed with her chin. Dylan squinted and saw that it was Alex's back, upright and held stiffly. They crept closer, both fearing the worst. Alex looked as still as a statue and Dylan knew that she must be able to hear them coming up behind her. Her arms were upraised, palms outward, as if in a defensive posture.   
  
Dylan reached up and clasped her shoulder. They both jumped back in surprise as Alex suddenly whirled around, her eyes wide; her hand clutching her chest as she tried to catch her breath "Oh, my God! Thank God you're here," Alex grabbed their arms as if to draw strength, " I don't know what the HELL just happened. But I was here waiting and all of sudden, all of a sudden, he...he...he..."   
  
Nat stroked her arm, "It's ok, we're here." "Yeah, well, he friggin' appa...APPARATED out of thin air right in front of me. I swear to God! And next thing I knew I couldn't move and I couldn't turn around...I couldn't turn around to see where he went!"  
  
Nat and Dylan looked at each other. Okaaay, this is probably the first time either of them had seen Alex close to wiggin' out. "Alex, look...it's ok. He's just looking for the necklace, did you hear which way...?" Dylan paused then turned around...ok, here we go, it's showtime.  
  
The Thin Man had appeared at the opposite side of the foyer. Looks like he still hasn't found what he's looking for, Dylan thought. His rapier was already drawn and raised above his head as he flew towards the Angels. Alex, being hugely ticked off, led the charge, with Nat and Dylan flanking her. They were circling him, dodging the sweep of his rapier, trying to find an opening. Alex connected with him first, her kick sending him head over heels.   
  
Dylan ran behind him to follow up with a rabbit punch to his side; her hand clasping tightly around his rapier wrist. Nat threw her arms around the Thin Man's body from behind, as if to wrestle him to the ground. But Dylan realized the extent of her mistake when she had touched him. He looked back at her, his legs lock knee'd as Nat futilely tried to throw him on the marble floor.   
  
He knows where it is now, Dylan thought frantically. His eyes were growing electric blue now, steadily staring at her and she looked away. Alex had already started to punch him in the stomach; and Nat still had a tenacious lock around his shoulders. But he viciously kicked Alex away and rammed backwards onto a column to loosen Nat.   
  
Dylan, not letting go of his wrist followed him back, slamming his rapier hand down on the column and then surprised him with a right cross; connecting with that wonderful cheekbone. His rapier hand loosened, the sword clanked to the ground as the stunned Thin Man screamed in frustration.   
  
Dylan quickly retrieved it and went on the offensive, while the Angels assumed their positions at her side. The Thin Man stared mesmerized at the tip of his rapier in Dylan's steady hand. She waved it under his nose as his dimming eyes followed it. This is certainly getting his attention, she thought. She pushed it slowly towards his face and forced him to back away. Is it possible that this is the only thing he's afraid of? His own weapon?   
  
He hit the wall and then looked at Dylan, reaching behind his back. Her eyes widened and she could hear Nat gasp as the Thin Man whipped out a Glock and pointed it right between Dylan's eyes. Touche` thought Dylan, and now who'll be the one to break this stalemate?  
  
As if God himself had responded, the lights outside suddenly flashed on and the Angels looked at each other. Who the hell could that be at this hour? It was Alex's turn to gasp as the heavy wooden door to the foyer slowly swung open to reveal a headphone-wearing, body bobbin' Max. All eyes were on him; his backpack slung over his shoulder, his hand reaching for the lightswitch by the door. Hearing Alex's gasp and muttered Oh, no!, he looked up confused and frozen at the sight of the three Angels trying to catch their breath; Alex moving protectively towards him....  
  
Dylan, her attention on Max, turned back to the Thin Man who was now leaning easily against the stone column, his long legs crossed at the ankles; Glock gone, he was quietly shaking out a cigarette. He calmly put his hands in his pockets, cigarette unlit; his eyes sweeping over the frozen diorama of Max, Nat, Alex and Dylan. There's that look again, Dylan thought, so, he's picking his fights; is he? He stood up and straightened his tie and jacket, then lit his cigarette with a silver lighter that appeared in his hand.  
  
Max just stood there, watching the elegant Thin Man in absolute hero worship. The Thin Man walked towards Max, stopping to pick up his sheathe and simply disarming Dylan of the rapier by gently prying it from her hand. His hand cold on her skin. He slowly slid the rapier into the sheathe, his eyes never leaving Dylan's.   
  
Then tucking it jauntily under his arm, he walked over to Max and put his hand benignly on the boy's shoulder. As Max gazed up adoringly, Alex rolled her eyes and hurrumphed. Looking over the his head, he met each of the Angels'eyes with a stare that said "This isn't over."   
  
Turning on his heel, he slammed the door shut behind him; the Angels and Max still silent, until Max let out a whoosh and exclaimed, "Wow, he's soooo cool! What was he doing here? I bet he was kickin' your asses!" The Angels dropped their fighting stances and looked at each other. Ok, their looks said, the kid saved our butts, but who's going to be the bad cop here?   
  
Nat stepped up to the plate, "Max, what are you doing here so late? Does your mother know where you are? It's after 9!" "Aw, come on! Bos said I could come by here and use the computer for gaming." "Yeah, well guess what, mister you are in big trouble! And if you want to get out of this one, you're going to be put to work helping us!"   
  
Alex gently grabbed Max by the back of the neck and pushed him towards the conference room. Dylan and Nat looked at each other, knowing they'd have to move fast if they were to anticipate the Thin Man's next move. 


	7. At the Orphanage

Early the next morning, Dylan drove out to meet the ferry to the  
  
orphanage. Last night, after the Thin Man left, Nat, Alex and Dylan  
  
had sat down at the conference table to sort out their leads.  
  
The FBI had come through and Alex decided that she'd start  
  
tracking down where the dead men lived and who'd they'd worked  
  
for; Nat would help Alex and continue her leads into the wire fraud  
  
and corporate front of the smuggling ring.   
  
It was decided that Dylan would find out more about the Thin Man's  
  
involvement in this operation. They needed to know if he was just a  
  
hired hand or if he was part of some larger power play.  
  
But they were at a complete disadvantage, since they knew next to  
  
nothing about the Thin Man. Dylan figured she could find out from the  
  
mother superior the names of the cops' who'd found him. And also get  
  
whatever files the nuns had on him; whether official or just orphanage  
  
stuff.   
  
Max, of course, got into the act; he wanted to hang out at  
  
the Coal Bowl to see if the Thin Man would race again. "I could ask  
  
people around there if they've seen him before, I'm sure people've  
  
seen him. Make it seem like I want to challenge him or somethin'."   
  
The angels looked at each other. "Well, ok; let's clear it with your  
  
brothers' first though," Nat hedged.   
  
"Great, and can you guys advance me two grand for the pot?" "NO!!"  
  
She boarded the ferry to the orphanage and took a seat. She reached  
  
into her jacket and pulled out the baggie that held the necklace. It  
  
was really quite stunning, and not as stereotypically medieval as she  
  
had previously thought of magical talismans. If that's what it really  
  
was. No, it was wonderfully modern in an art nouveau way. The sleek  
  
head and tail glinted in the sun and the apple was darling enough to  
  
eat, being more realistically detailed than the abstracted snake.  
  
Not wanting to get the chain snarled up, she undid the clasp and put  
  
it around her neck. The metal was smooth and cool on her skin as she  
  
looked down at the necklace. She rather liked it and tucked it into  
  
her t-shirt.  
  
The mother superior was friendly and gracious as ever and waved away  
  
apologies for being disturbed. "It's nothing, really! Please make  
  
yourself comfortable while I continue with my other duties." Dylan  
  
settled in the nun's office to read the assorted files.   
  
There were a lot of state papers, official documents detailing that  
  
the orphanage…hmmm….The orphanage adopted the Thin Man, giving him the  
  
name Anthony; making him their ward until he ran away at sixteen.   
  
That's unusual, never heard of an orphanage adopting a child.   
  
Usually, they were just way-stations for children waiting for foster  
  
homes or until they turned eighteen and were no longer the state's  
  
responsibility. Where they were then turned onto the street, she  
  
thought empathetically.   
  
She picked up the social worker's report that detailed the young Thin  
  
Man's "willful" and withdrawn personality and his disturbing fetish  
  
for hair. Dylan frowned when she read that the social worker had  
  
recommended shock therapy for him. What, just because he wouldn't  
  
talk? Is that why he had run away? She chuckled then; apparently the  
  
social worker also had quite a chunk of hair torn out of her head.   
  
Welcome to the club, lady. She found the names of the cops who had  
  
found him and noted down the names. Hopefully they're still alive and  
  
can answer questions. She stopped for a moment to rest her eyes and  
  
looked around the mother superior's office; her gaze resting on a  
  
picture of Eve that hung behind the desk. I wonder how old she was  
  
when the Thin Man was first brought here?   
  
The files had only been a little helpful, they had detailed parts of  
  
his life that happened once he got to the orphanage, not before. She  
  
rummaged around the box and pulled out a manila envelope. Inside  
  
were some drawings that were done by a child. The Thin Man's hands  
  
did these?, Dylan wondered, as she smiled at the drawings.   
  
He was talented, capturing small details in colored pencils. His  
  
mother's blond hair and blue eyes and his father, a tall dark haired  
  
figure with a…cape? And top hat? Hmmm..she assumed the small figure  
  
wearing bright blue short pants was himself. But the father? Was he  
  
some sort of magician?   
  
Shaking the box a little, she heard something metal clang around. At  
  
the bottom of the box was a small red velvet bag; she undid the  
  
strings and pulled out a skeleton key and an ornately decorated  
  
silver, very small, square box.   
  
Looking around, she made a quick command decision. She pocketed the  
  
two items and then at second thought, took the envelope and stuffed it  
  
inside her jacket under her arm.   
  
She stood up and headed for the door. "I hope we were able to help  
  
you with your questions. And I hope Anthony isn't causing too much  
  
trouble for you." Dylan turned towards the kindly smiling mother  
  
superior, "Oh, yes, it was quite helpful. And no, he's not in any  
  
kind of real trouble."  
  
"Really? My, what a surprise! Anthony could always be a stubborn  
  
child when he wanted something."  
  
"Oh, I imagine he was...is that why he ran away from the orphanage  
  
when he was sixteen? I read in the report that the social worker  
  
wanted to give him shock therapy...."  
  
"Well, you see, their understanding of emotional problems was so  
  
different back then. We didn't know as much then as we do now. And  
  
yes, at the time the mother superior was for shock therapy, but only  
  
because Anthony was becoming increasingly erratic in his behavior. I  
  
tried speaking to him at the time, I was just a novice then; but,  
  
Anthony is so independent and mistrustful."  
  
"Oh. Right. He's tightly wound. It's hard to imagine him...." Well,  
  
given his hair fetish, it was hard not to see it the nuns' way. After  
  
all, even though I've come to expect it from him....it really is  
  
alarming behavior, Dylan thought bemused.  
  
"So, you do understand where I am coming from...It's just this refusal  
  
to...to...understand where other people are coming from....He can be  
  
very demanding. Demanding that you understand his point of view. And  
  
when that comes from a sixteen year old boy..." The mother superior  
  
shrugged her shoulders and walked over to the window.  
  
"Was he trying to become an independent minor? You know, make it  
  
legal," Dylan mused out loud. The mother superior turned and gave  
  
her a startled glance, "Why, yes. How on earth did you know that?"  
  
"I understand a lot about how a sixteen year old's mind works, believe  
  
me," Dylan smiled weakly. She hadn't known or read of it in the  
  
files...she just guessed.  
  
"Yes, I guess you would. And you're correct. But, the mother superior  
  
at the time had simply refused him and it drove him to distraction."  
  
She stopped, looking sad, "It got to the point where he just...he left  
  
us, and he was very very angry. He didn't like being told no."  
  
She turned back and looked out the window across the bay. "Anthony has  
  
chosen his path. Or, perhaps the path has chosen him. Anyhow, he  
  
seems quite content with the consequences. And I fear that there is  
  
little that I can do to help him anymore."  
  
Dylan stood there watching her look out the window. There was  
  
something about this woman that she couldn't quite place her finger  
  
on...."How old were you when he came here?", she asked.  
  
"I was young then, in my mid-twenties. I wanted to make my parents  
  
proud of me...my...sister had been such a disappointment." She turned  
  
and Dylan was surprised to see the emotion well up in the mother  
  
superior's pale blue eyes.  
  
Dylan was feeling clear, right then; as clear as after that night she  
  
spent with the Thin Man. Her arm folded, her hand lightly rubbing the  
  
apple pendant under her t-shirt. She could see this so clearly....  
  
"You knew his parents, didn't you?"her mind, grasping. In fact, Dylan  
  
was willing to bet that she was Romanian, but second generation.  
  
"Why! You are quite an astounding young lady aren't you!" The mother  
  
superior's manner suddenly changed becoming much more formal and  
  
brisk. Dylan could feel the distance between them grow, the last  
  
moments of confessional intimacy broken by her last question.  
  
"Yes, I did," she conceded; striding from the window to her chair  
  
behind her desk. "I knew of them in passing. The community was much  
  
smaller then. Besides, by that time I was already a novice and had  
  
removed myself from worldly concerns." She folded her hands on top of  
  
the desk; looked up at Dylan and smiled brightly. "Now, if you'll  
  
excuse me; I'm so sorry, but I have so much work here that needs to be  
  
done. Can you find your way out?"  
  
*********  
  
Dylan sunk into the thick leather chair in the conference room,  
  
spreading out the blue prints of the abandoned office building before  
  
her. She was feeling strangely since the orphanage. Like she had  
  
just woken up from a bad dream, and couldn't shake it from her brain.  
  
It was the interview with the mother superior; she was bothered by it  
  
still. There was something about her that she couldn't place...And  
  
she was disturbed by this new facet of the Thin Man's relationship  
  
with the orphanage. Dylan wondered at how benign his existence was  
  
there and at the extent of his loyalty that he still held  
  
towards it and the mother superior.  
  
Tonight she would stake out his place....Dylan jumped as a triumphant  
  
Alex slapped her hand down on the table in front of her. A pink flush  
  
had bloomed behind her freckles as she laughingly crowed, "You won't  
  
believe what I found out!"  
  
By this time, Natalie, Max and Bos were coming into the agency and  
  
there was alot of commotion as they got coffee and water and then settled into the chairs around the table.  
  
Alex had laughed that she had found out where the Thin Man had his  
  
clothes dry cleaned. Everyone laughed; imagining the mundane sight of  
  
the Thin Man waiting patiently for his pieces of clothing to be  
  
counted up and then being handed a pick-up slip.  
  
"Turns out that the six men worked for one Grigore Vasilescu,"Natalie  
  
tossed a black and white picture onto the table.  
  
"Whoa! Dracula called...he wants his hat back!" Max whistled as he  
  
looked at the grainy picture of a dark haired man with a long  
  
mustache, eyes shaded by sunglasses.  
  
Bos leaned over and plucked the picture out of the boy's hand,"Quiet,  
  
boy! Can't you see that adults are talkin'?"  
  
Alex continued,"What's even more interesting is that these poor men  
  
the Thin Man hacked to bits and immolated, weren't your average thugs  
  
for hire. But, instead, seemed to lead fairly professional, though  
  
solitary, lives. I found out about the dry cleaning place by  
  
accident, finding the same pick-up slips at three of the six  
  
addresses. The dry cleaning place could be a safe way of  
  
communication between them."  
  
"Right, and who's this Vasilescu?" Dylan asked.  
  
"He's the one who owns the dummy corporations and several of his  
  
corporations own property all over the state....but get this, quite a  
  
few of those properties are also co-owned by the orphanage."  
  
Dylan's eyes widened at this...so Mother Superior had been holding out  
  
on her. "Well, the Church owns lots and lots of property. I mean...."  
  
"Yeah, but how many orphanages own property with a guy like this,"  
  
Alex interrupted, tapping the picture. "Something's up with this,  
  
obviously; but again we have to determine whether Mother Superior is  
  
aware of this Vasilescu or if this is a Thin Man arrangement."  
  
"I'm sorta leaning towards her knowing about this..."said Dylan,  
  
relating the Mother's sudden reluctance to talk to her after Dylan  
  
inquired about the Thin Man's parents.  
  
"Hmmm....the plot sickens..."Alex muttered. "Vasilescu has been in  
  
the country for about thirty, thirty-five years and became naturalized  
  
soon after 9/11..."  
  
"Why then?" Max interrupted, "Why do it after thirty some odd years...?"  
  
"My sources say that he's terrified of being deported under the  
  
Patriot Act. If the AG does find something solid on him, it'll be a  
  
lot harder to get rid of him since he'll be entitled to his rights,"  
  
Boz said.  
  
"What have they had on him before?" Dylan asked.   
  
"Just the hard core stuff. Drugs, guns and women." Natalie said,  
  
leaning back in her chair, "A right old triangle trade: buying,  
  
selling and trading in guns and drugs. The prostitutes are a side  
  
thing. I'm thinking that they do a lot of business with other  
  
cartels, the usual thing."  
  
"But, see they could never make anything stick. Witnesses died or  
  
were bought off...who knows and it was hell to find out as much as we  
  
did. This community is clammed up tight. People are afraid to talk."  
  
Alex continued,"What's been happening is that he'll buy up drugs  
  
across the border, then come back here and trade them for guns..."  
  
"And that's certainly easy enough around here," Bos muttered  
  
bitterly,"all those guns floatin' around, people wanting to get rid of  
  
them, and he'll take them. No questions asked of course and he'll  
  
smuggle them out..."  
  
"Using a ship like the Merkin?" Dylan cocked her eyebrow at Bos.  
  
"Yep. Of course, the AG is suddenly putting Vasilescu high on his list  
  
of priorities. Despite the fact that he's been doing this for years.  
  
Years! It's like people's memories are sieves...I mean, there've been  
  
stories circulating forever about how he'd just walk into a gun  
  
manufacturer's warehouse. Chat up the guard, slip him a few twenties  
  
and meanwhile six hundred boxes of handguns mysteriously disappear.   
  
File off the serial number and ya got yourself a Saturday Night  
  
special. More often than not, they wound up in my neighborhood, all  
  
those gangbangers want to protect their turf, right? And what do the  
  
police care about the good people living there?" Bos shrugged,"but  
  
that's how he got his start."  
  
"Why? Why do it for so freakin' long?" Max asked. "I mean come on!  
  
Make your money and just move on."  
  
"Oooo, listen to you, Mr. Man," cooed Alex as Max blushed.  
  
"Why does anybody do anything? It's just become his thing now. Chances  
  
are, he's funding a war. And he's probably they're best fundraiser.   
  
Listen, kids, we'll have to be careful with this one. You can always  
  
deal with people who have a price....but with people like this...Where  
  
they think they believe in something?! Well, they're dangerous as  
  
hell....look at the IRA, hell! Look at al-Quaeda! They come over here  
  
and they have one thing on their mind. Make money! Get guns! The ends  
  
justifies the means!"Boz threw up his hands.  
  
Alex heaved a sigh,"So, we have the gun runner and the nun. Tied  
  
together by the Thin Man. Besides all being from the Romanian  
  
community, what else do we have?"   
  
Natalie looked at Dylan. "We've got to find out more. Word will  
  
start to spread that we've been asking about him and Vasilescu. And  
  
I'm sure the wheels have started to turn...people will start to get  
  
antsy."  
  
"The Thin Man may want to get out of all this," Dylan said,"he killed  
  
eight men that day. And it seems like they were going after him. So,  
  
maybe he's turned on Vasilescu. He wants out."  
  
"You and Max are in the Witness Protection program. That's why he  
  
might be reaching out to you," Nat smiled, "among other reasons, of  
  
course."  
  
"Maybe we can convince him to surrender,"Alex snorted, and Dylan glared  
  
at her, continuing,"to SURRENDER into our protective custody."  
  
"That might work," Natalie said. "Any ideas on how we trap a slippery  
  
assassin?"  
  
Dylan smiled, "Yeah, I got a few." 


	8. Baiting the Trap

Chapter 8  
  
And how does one gird a lion's loins? Very, very carefully...  
  
Dylan sipped her steaming cup of coffee as she watched the Thin Man  
  
enter the dry cleaning shop. Staking out the shop had been the best  
  
bet, since she was afraid of being spotted at the deserted office  
  
building. Here, she was inconspicuous as she window-shopped; watching  
  
him in the reflection of the department store.  
  
He was puffing on his cigarette, carrying a clothe bag carefully with  
  
two hands; cane dangling from his arm. The sight was as hysterical as  
  
she and the Angels had imagined it; she could see him standing at the  
  
counter, blankly looking on as the man emptied the bag and counted the  
  
shirts. She resisted the urge to turn around to get a glimpse of his  
  
'unmentionables.'  
  
The Thin Man emerged a few seconds later as Dylan calmly said, "Ok,  
  
here he comes." "All right, we'll be waiting, "Natalie responded via  
  
molar mike. It had been all arranged by Max and Bos. Max spread the  
  
word that he had wanted to challenge the Thin Man to a friendly match  
  
and Bos pretended to be the muscle behind him.   
  
The Thin Man had bit and word came back that he wanted to race for a  
  
prize of his choosing. "Hmmm....what will he choose if he wins?" Alex  
  
smirked, holding out both hands like tipping scales. "Dylan naked on  
  
a platter or his Cracker Jack prize?"   
  
Bos had given Max money, which was being used as a deposit to keep  
  
both sides honest. He had even let Max hold the huge stack of money  
  
for a bit, before slapping his hands away from the bag. "I'll hold  
  
it! And trust me, no one's gonna mess with it!"  
  
The plan was, win or lose, the Thin Man would get a tranquilizer dart  
  
at the end of the race. Max would keep him occupied while Alex, who'd  
  
readily volunteered, would take up a sniper position above the  
  
racetrack to shoot him. It was then up to Bos, Natalie and Max to  
  
wrestle him into the van and speed away to the safe house.  
  
Dylan pulled up to the side of the road. She was near an entry point  
  
about three miles from the abandoned office building. It was better  
  
to start here than risk being spotted on the other side. At least, if  
  
she were caught, she could finesse her way out by pretending to be a  
  
lost nature lover.   
  
Grabbing her map and flashlight she headed to the small concrete  
  
access way and started to pick the lock. Turning on her light, she  
  
peered down into the darkness. Well, here goes nothing, she thought.   
  
She was feeling better today, not as nervous or queasy as yesterday.   
  
It was just that bad feeling she couldn't shake from her brain;  
  
cobwebs from the night before. Dreams, disturbing and inexplicable.   
  
She had dreamt of two young men, both quite handsome, with dark hair  
  
and dark eyes. One of them, the older of the two, kept pulling a  
  
rabbit out of a top hat and then, laughing, shoved it back inside.   
  
The other, who looked like his younger brother, kept clapping his  
  
hands and shouting he wanted more.  
  
Dylan shook her head. It was like she was having someone else's weird  
  
dream. She didn't know what else to make of it. But she felt that  
  
the necklace was somehow responsible.   
  
Max revved his cycle, he hadn't been on his bike for months since  
  
being adopted by the Bosleys'. His new mother had been less than  
  
thrilled by the idea of him "gambling with his body, risking life and  
  
limb for some childish kicks!" But his brothers had kindly intervened  
  
on his behalf, promising that for this one time, and one time only,  
  
the race would go on and that Max would be very, very, VERY careful.   
  
The last VERY being emphasized by a hard look from Bos.   
  
And what better way to `retire', Max thought, than to race the Thin  
  
Man in one glorious, no-holds barred race! He wasn't going to listen  
  
to Bos, he was racing to win and the Thin Man wasn't expecting  
  
anything less.   
  
Who wasn't expecting anything, really; much less the planned-for dart  
  
in the back. No, the Thin Man hadn't suspected a thing, but was just  
  
looking forward to a good time with the boy he had watched over for so  
  
long.   
  
The Thin Man watched Max check his bike for a bit, then put on his own  
  
helmet. He had changed the location of the race twice, before  
  
settling on this lonely stretch of industrial complex. Its' empty  
  
buildings and warehouses and endless miles of blacktop were perfect  
  
for the obstacle course that was being set-up. He hadn't wanted to  
  
re-visit the Coal Bowl out of respect for the boy.   
  
The Thin Man double-checked his gear, making sure his cane was  
  
attached securely to his leg; his Glock hidden under his all black  
  
motorcycle suit. His hand momentarily paused at his front pocket to  
  
tap the cigarette case. Need those, he thought absently. Even though  
  
he was out to have some fun, he wanted to make sure that he was  
  
prepared for anything. And he was confident that despite recent  
  
attacks, they were relatively safe here.   
  
He turned his engine on and headed down to the starting line to hand  
  
over his money.  
  
Dylan by this time had reached the spot where the six men had been  
  
killed. It was immaculate, the county having cleaned it up after  
  
collecting what was left as evidence.   
  
She easily traced her steps back to the dead end where she had kissed  
  
him; she paused and touched the necklace. Ok, let's focus, please.   
  
The blueprints had indicated a room nearby, one that she hadn't  
  
noticed before; and Dylan was sure that's where he had gone.   
  
The walls had been built out, creating a fake front that melded  
  
seamlessly into the rest of the corridor. She wondered if he had done  
  
the work himself; it was truly impeccable craftsmanship. Of course,  
  
pretty much everything about him is impeccable. She, of course, would  
  
be less delicate about her approach to the little problem of finding  
  
the doorway to his lair. She circled around. The tunnels appeared to  
  
merge and go off in opposite directions, with one side being blocked  
  
off. How did he get inside? This part wasn't fake; it had the solid  
  
feel of concrete as she slapped it with her palm. Unless- she ran  
  
back to the dead end. Unless, one didn't go through, but up and over.  
  
Duh!  
  
She ran along the tunnel, her flashlight pointed up-getting anxious as  
  
she felt she was closing in.  
  
Max looked over at the Thin Man, who nodded in his direction. The  
  
flag dropped and they were off.  
  
Max quickly took the lead, his front wheel popping up; racing down the  
  
blacktop towards the huge office building. The industrial park had  
  
been built on the side of a hill and many of the smaller, decaying  
  
buildings were scattered around, connected by a series of stairs and  
  
sometimes building-to-building bridges.   
  
For the obstacle course, you had to race around the perimeter of the  
  
park, climb the main stairway that led from the parking lot to the  
  
main campus, jump over the fence onto the warehouse side of the  
  
complex and then: and here was where Max got a little nervous- speed  
  
through the deserted building up the emergency stairs, through the  
  
enclosed bridge out to the other side.   
  
Max was only nervous because this was part of the track that he hadn't  
  
seen. And being unfamiliar with the track left a cold sweat on his  
  
back. He knew he was up for the challenge, but didn't like racing  
  
80mph into something that wasn't familiar. The Coal Bowl was a  
  
difficult track, but it's dangers were at least known before hand.  
  
Alex got her gun and settled behind the concrete coloured blind that  
  
she had set up on the roof. The boys would be returning from where  
  
they started; looking through her sniper scope. They were about to  
  
race up the first staircase and Max had taken the lead, about three  
  
bike lengths ahead of the Thin Man. She panned her scope around the  
  
park, noting the van in the parking lot. "How are we doing?" "We're  
  
ready to go!" Natalie replied, via trusty molar mike.  
  
Dylan crawled into the ventilation tube and slid over the ledge; she  
  
hung from her fingers for a bit, reluctant to let go and fall into  
  
pitch black.   
  
Holding her breath, she let go, letting out a huge sigh  
  
of relief as her body dropped a couple of inches to the floor. Well,  
  
that was painless, she thought as she flashed her light around the room... 


	9. Max Challenges the Thin Man

Chapter 9  
  
The Thin Man grinned as he watched Max take the lead. He'd let the  
  
boy have his fun; in the meantime, he'd just relax and bide his time  
  
until they got inside the building.   
  
Max himself was having a blast, the stairs weren't a problem at all  
  
and felt the greatest thrill as he sped through one building; flying  
  
out the back off the loading dock. Max looked back, the Thin Man was  
  
following right behind him.  
  
Alex peered through her scope at the van, "Maybe you guys should get  
  
into position..." "Yeah, that might be a good idea," Nat  
  
replied. Alex squinted, "Mmmm check out the expedition pulling  
  
in." It was a large suv with tinted windows and it was rolling slowly  
  
up into the middle of the parking lot.  
  
Dylan flashed her light around the walls, the bright circle of light  
  
bouncing from one side to another, as she silently gaped in awe at the  
  
incredible richness of the Thin Man's small but comfy home. She knew  
  
she shouldn't be surprised, but she was taken aback at how wonderful  
  
it was. He must have spent a fortune!  
  
No, he probably hadn't spent a dime, thinking back to the kinds of  
  
goods that the O'Grady clan had traded in. Yep, the Thin Man  
  
"shopped" wisely and had exquisite good taste. If he were ever  
  
caught, my God, he'd be serving at least twenty years!  
  
Her foot sank into a thick Persian rug, the pilings so thick, she had  
  
to be careful not to twist her ankle. Stepping carefully around the  
  
dark red carpet, she walked along the draped walls looking for a  
  
switch. The plans had indicated an electrical source near the left  
  
hand corner of the roughly 15 by 30 foot room. Her hand groped, her  
  
fingers touching a cold, metal round knob.  
  
My God! She blankly shut off her flashlight; shocked at the soaring  
  
heights to which the ceiling seemed to fly. Simple arches, strong  
  
lines, like many large, thick fingers forming a steeple; flowed up to  
  
a distant point high above. This was most definitely not in the  
  
blueprints. She kept turning in circles slowly, expecting that  
  
maybe it was just his clever use of dramatic interior lighting. The  
  
room was just huge and she could see that it opened onto a few more  
  
rooms in the back.  
  
Her knee banged into a table and she looked down again. She looked  
  
back up and flashed her light on the farthest corner of the ceiling.   
  
Perhaps trompe l'oeil? She squinted no hmmm. Perhaps this just  
  
went off the map. Haha, Dylan thought nervously, her skin prickling.  
  
She looked back down. She didn't have a lot of time to gawk. Dylan  
  
reached into her jeans and pulled out the skeleton key that she found  
  
at the orphanage. She felt really really bad about being in the Thin  
  
Man's home like this; guilty, in fact, for violating his privacy. But  
  
she brushed that aside, knowing that her information would help her  
  
close this case and perhaps help him in some way.   
  
She looked at her watch. She had given herself three hours to do  
  
this...there were two hours built into the deadline, for the race at  
  
least; but she wasn't going to test that. Three hours for travel time  
  
from the race and back.  
  
This room looked like his main living area; a large long wooden table,  
  
a study area with a desk and lamp. Many, many books lined the cases  
  
along the walls that reached at least fifteen feet into the air. She  
  
wondered where to begin....  
  
Pulling open the desk drawers, she started to look for files.   
  
Anything that would lead her on a paper trail to Vasilescu and perhaps  
  
explain his disturbing relationship with the orphanage. She could get  
  
his involvement with a shady character like Vasilescu, feeling a  
  
moment of empathy for that restless, sixteen year old Thin Man; but  
  
she couldn't get what the deal was with the orphanage.  
  
Here we go! She sat in the oversized wooden chair and pulled up a  
  
large file. What's he got stashed in here I wonder? Her fingertips  
  
grazed photographic paper. It was a thick stack of photos. Targets.   
  
This must be his records, she thought, as she turned over each photo,  
  
looking for a date. The one on top was dated about twenty years ago.  
  
She shuddered, that's a long, long time to be killing people. That  
  
would make the Thin Man about thirty-eight, starting two years after  
  
he ran from the orphanage; a legal adult. Jesus!  
  
She thumbed through them all, gasping at some of the ones she  
  
recognized. They were all notorious men, gangland figures, some more  
  
'legitimate'. Powerful men who died in mysterious circumstances; some  
  
even in protective custody. She stopped at Corwin's picture. Were  
  
all these freelance? Or did they conveniently coincide with this  
  
Vasilescu's plans?   
  
And she figured that they did, as she turned over Knox's and Wood's  
  
pictures. He had planned on betraying them. Is Vasilescu his highest  
  
bidder? A vulture on the side, waiting for the Thin Man to finish his  
  
dirty work?  
  
A chill went through her as she looked at Max's picture. Max on the  
  
grounds of the orphanage. There was a picture of her at the park,  
  
playing basketball with some friends. Alex and Jason shopping. Mama  
  
Bosley coming from church. Nat, Pete and Spike grocery shopping. Her  
  
watching television in her bathrobe. Jesus! She slammed down the  
  
pictures. She didn't feel guilty anymore.  
  
There was a wardrobe in the corner, which doors she yanked open. She  
  
needed to find something! She glance around at a lost. Heading over  
  
to the back, she kicked open a closed door. She didn't care anymore  
  
if he knew that she was there, had been pawing through his belongings  
  
at her leisure. Bastard.  
  
She stopped; just when she thought she was done being surprised. His  
  
bedroom. A simple affair. Charming, almost; with it's clean white  
  
sheets and pillowcase and gray blanket folded neatly back, regulation  
  
style. Like he was still at the orphanage, I bet. His closet was  
  
full of black, white pinstriped suits. His shoes- everything in this  
  
room was deliberately in its place. He's an absolute neat freak!   
  
His rooms were like nesting dolls of his personality; the living area,  
  
full of opulent elegant mystery. Contrasted to his puritan bedroom.   
  
He's a mess of contradictions. There's another door that must be the  
  
bathroom, I mean, he has to go sometime.  
  
Her heart jumped as she spotted him, his face shadowed in dark. She  
  
turned on the light. A portrait of his parents. The older boy from  
  
her dream! That's the Thin Man's father! Her eyes flew to his  
  
mother's face! Jesus! The mother superior is his aunt! Holy Shit!   
  
That certain something that Dylan couldn't put her finger on, finally  
  
slid into place. Her eyes fell to his mother's neck and her flesh  
  
crawled as she made out the fuzzy outline of the snake necklace; her  
  
hand to her own neck.   
  
Stunned, she reached out, in disbelief; and almost wet her pants as  
  
the picture flew off the wall and stuck itself in her hand.   
  
She jammed her back into the door; at least to get it to stop  
  
crawling, she thought rather dispassionately. She drew her gun and  
  
felt better.  
  
So Mother Superior had lied; about a lot of things. This explained  
  
his continued involvement with the orphanage, even after he ran away.  
  
But why had she lied? Why keep the family connection secret? It  
  
didn't make sense. Dylan's mind hurried along this thread of reason,  
  
trying to ignore the three sets of eyes on her.... the Thin Man.  
  
She looked over at the portrait; she was still holding it,  
  
at arm's length and had to squint.  
  
He was a just a boy. A child like every other person on this earth  
  
had been; he was smiling. The smile of a shy, but happy boy with his  
  
parents. He looked most like his father, but the Thin Man's features  
  
had been softened a little around the mouth and cheekbones and eyes.   
  
He had her eyes. Though the picture was black and white, her eyes  
  
seemed to glow, they were so pale. She shook her head, the mother  
  
superior's eyes! Why hadn't she seen it before behind those glasses?  
  
While not as intense as the Thin Man's, there was no denying that she  
  
was his aunt.  
  
She slowly walked back to the wall and hung the picture. There was a  
  
table; letters wrapped in a ribbon. An unlit candle. Dead flowers.  
  
A small photo album. The room was decorated with a variety of circus  
  
posters....she stopped in front of a large life size poster of his  
  
father. So, he was a magician. The father poised with his wand in  
  
one hand, hat in another, slyly winking. Wand? Wait a minute. She  
  
stood back a little and cocked her head. That looks a bit like a cane.   
  
So his parents were murdered right around the same time as that  
  
portrait was taken, she guessed. He has his father's cane and he  
  
wants his mother's necklace. How are these two things tied together?  
  
Why did Vasilescu's men have the necklace? What was it's real  
  
purpose? Was the cane also enchanted?  
  
She hesitated over the term enchanted; she felt that the cane and the  
  
necklace were magical things. But she wouldn't call them  
  
enchanted...like...Some Enchanted Evening....or something.  
  
These things were- powerful. She had seen what he could do with  
  
that cane, both the physical and the impossible. She opened all the  
  
drawers in the table. She felt lucky and started to search the room.  
  
The key was- key. She had to find what it could open.  
  
Max revved up the last stair; his engine echoing off the walls as he  
  
raced through the eerily dark corridor. The neglected building had  
  
water damage on the floor and the wood was visibly sagging in some  
  
parts. Huge sheets of paint hung; peeling from the wall with the help  
  
of gravity. Max could hear the Thin Man's engine race up and down as  
  
he tried to navigate the stairs. Max stopped to listen a bit.   
  
The Thin Man had fallen behind a little; Max wondered if the course  
  
was difficult or if he was being humoured by him. He was hoping that  
  
the track was just difficult. Max turned around on his seat and  
  
waited for the sound of the engine to come closer. The next leg would  
  
be difficult. As they had raced around the perimeter of the park, Max  
  
noticed the low, flat building that had slid off the hill. It was  
  
torn in two; office furniture flung about like toys, trash stuck to  
  
the sides of the chain link fence. Erosion had finally swept one half  
  
of the building away into a big broken up trash heap.  
  
Max could hear him getting closer and kicked off towards the bridge.  
  
Alex had felt a pang of fear as she spotted the first black clad  
  
figure in the distance. "Nat, we got ourselves a problem." At first,  
  
given the distance Max and the Thin Man were from her position and the  
  
waves of heat radiating from the ground, she had thought that the Thin  
  
Man had merely gotten off course. Perhaps, the Old Man missed one of  
  
the small flag markers, she snickered.   
  
But she became alarmed when that small black clad figure in the  
  
distance seemingly split before her eyes on the distant horizon into  
  
two, then three, then four, then five.....  
  
The mysterious black suv hadn't moved since first pulling up either.   
  
And Nat was responding with increasing anxiety. She didn't dare  
  
reveal her and Bos' position to this potential enemy. But she was  
  
panicking about the crowd that was growing bolder and actually tapping  
  
on the glass, trying to peer into the interior.  
  
Alex looked through the scope, "Nat, they still haven't come around  
  
that corner." What were those things riding anyway? They were  
  
flitting about the horizon like caffeinated horseflies.   
  
The Thin Man sped down hall after hall, occasionally overtaking Max,  
  
who was suddenly not as confident as he had been at the start of the  
  
race. But Max still managed to get ahead of him and he could hear him  
  
start his run towards the bridge. Max took off across the enclosed  
  
bridge, towards the blinding white sunshine of the outside. It's so  
  
bright-  
  
Two things puzzled Max even as he and his bike dropped towards the  
  
ravine below. What the hell was that buzzing noise and where was the  
  
rest of the bridge?  
  
The Thin Man had seen Max in that moment just before gravity started  
  
to slowly pull him down. Horror filled him as he stood up on his  
  
bike, before gunning it and hurtling himself after the boy.   
  
Dylan finally found what she was looking for. In a corner by a door,  
  
a veritable shrine to Vasilescu; his mustache and beard neatly  
  
trimmed, his eyes hidden by black eyeglasses. His picture hung over a  
  
small bureau with a large silver box that seemed to pulse with life;  
  
twining, sinuous glinting branches twisting itself around the box, as  
  
if grown from it and into it. She got out her key and started to open  
  
the box. 


	10. Betrayal

Chapter 10  
  
"Nat! Nat! Bos! Get out here now!" Alex ripped the scope off the dart  
  
gun and slammed it onto her rifle. This is going to require live  
  
rounds, she thought, bringing the scope back up to her eye. Nat and  
  
Bos hopped out of the van as the first sonic boom rocked the cars in  
  
the parking lot; alarms shrieking. People were running to their cars  
  
and bikes and getting the hell out of Dodge--quickly. Nat and Bos ran  
  
towards the suv, shoving people out of their way; but it slowly rolled  
  
away, following the crowd.  
  
"Forget that! Forget that!" Alex shouted, kicking away the  
  
camouflaged blind, the butt of her rifle resting on her hip. Nat and  
  
Bos stopped and turned around. She pointed to the horizon.  
  
The portrait of Vasilescu was unnerving her; she didn't like standing  
  
so close, like he was watching her behind those glasses. Watching her  
  
rattle the key around in the lock. It squeaked as she turned it;  
  
lifting up the heavy lid, she let out a sigh. A friggin' rock thingy.  
  
Great!   
  
She picked it up and almost dropped it as a shooting sensation went up  
  
her arm. She was getting used to the random magical events, but  
  
didn't have time to stop and wonder about it.   
  
It was lighter than she thought and also not a rock, but petrified  
  
wood. Almost black, save for a few bright sparkling points embedded  
  
in the wood that seemed to hum a little. What the hell is this? And  
  
why is it in this box? Why? Why? Why? Why ask why? She put it back.   
  
Somehow she would have to make the Thin Man talk to her tonite at the  
  
safe house. Perhaps, she could dangle the necklace as a carrot?   
  
Would that make him talk? Would she have to threaten him? And what  
  
the heck could she, of all people, threaten him with?   
  
She walked back to the portrait of his parents. Murdered parents,  
  
sent away to an orphanage to the secret aunt, wants to legally break  
  
his guardianship, threat of shock therapy, runs away. Becomes  
  
disciple of madman. Becomes invincible assassin. Becomes...becomes  
  
what? What happens next for a man like him? Perhaps he's tired of  
  
taking orders. Wants to become his own boss?  
  
She picked up the letters, undid the ribbon and began to read the  
  
tight, Romanian script. She stopped for a moment. Hey! Look, Ma! I  
  
can read Romanian! Shaking her head, she sat down, still reading.  
  
Another sonic boom rippled across the industrial park and Alex jammed  
  
her eye to the scope. Nothing! Damn! She slung her rifle and picked  
  
up her gun bag; heading for the stairs. "Nat, let's go get Max!"  
  
Max continued to fall; his ears thrumming with the sound of beating  
  
wings and this horrible buzzing noise; like the sound of a thousand  
  
cicadas swarming around him. He clenched his knees and screamed as  
  
something flew by him; clutching and scraping at his neck. Max  
  
couldn't see, the sky was writhing with small inhuman bodies. He  
  
grabbed his handlebars as the bike's nose started to dip.   
  
The Thin Man saw Max turn towards him in the air, just as he had flown  
  
off the edge of the bridge towards Max. He gripped his cane and  
  
brandished it over his head; his eyes wide, not flinching even as a  
  
clawed wing scraped his face...  
  
Max grabbed his head as beating wings buzzed around him. He started  
  
to lose his breath, the air hot and suffocating and smelled like  
  
rotting garbage. He could feel the ground's closeness accelerate  
  
towards him and screamed again.  
  
The Thin Man closed his eyes and hummed; finding just the right note, the  
  
right cosmic note that would kill. His cane shook and a large crack  
  
of white light streamed from it and clapped like thunder. For a  
  
moment, time stopped. Max and the flying things hung there like the  
  
silence that hung between the flash and boom of lightning.   
  
The van screeched to a halt as Bos, Nat and Alex looked at each other.  
  
Something just fell on top of the roof. "What the HELL was  
  
that?"said Bos, "and don't be thinking that I'm the one going to  
  
check, either."  
  
"Let's just wait a minute," Nat whispered. Alex jumped as dark bodies  
  
thumped to the ground. They all screamed as one flew into the  
  
windshield, throwing glass into their faces. Bos had already pulled  
  
his gun and emptied a couple of rounds into its body. Their skin  
  
crawled in revulsion as they stared into the creature's many, many  
  
eyes. It's wings small and fleshy, body furry like a small dog's.  
  
"God, that's disgusting. It's like a big hairy fly-monkey thing!" Bos  
  
shouted. "AAHH!!" More bodies dropped to the ground as fallout from  
  
the second sonic boom continued.  
  
The Thin Man let out all the pent up fury that has been in him for so  
  
long. The force of his power rippled and folded the sky, stunning and  
  
killing the swarming attackers. The fool had miscalculated!   
  
Time began again and he nosedived for Max.  
  
Max dropped into the ravine, his head slamming onto the gas tank;  
  
blood trickling into his left eye. But he had hung on and managed to  
  
stay on top of his bike. His hand shakily revved the accelerator and  
  
woozily rode his bike up the hill.   
  
Nat, Alex and Bos, creeped out at the still crawling thingys, had  
  
taken to driving and shooting the bodies as they fell out of the sky.  
  
"Ewww!"Alex cringed as something splattered onto her arm.  
  
"Alex! Get ready, I see them!" Nat cried, Bos turned the wheel  
  
and the van sped towards Max emerging from the ravine.  
  
Alex put her scope back on the dart gun. She could see Max, face  
  
bloodied; the Thin Man right behind him, his cane raised, eyes crazed, a bloody gash across his eye..."Alex, shoot him! Before he gets Max!"  
  
Bos yelled.  
  
She got him in her sights, steadying herself as the van sped up; aimed  
  
and squeezed the trigger. The dart lodged itself right above the Thin  
  
Man's heart. His eyes glowed and he looked right at Alex through the  
  
scope. He stopped the bike and was sitting on it with a stunned  
  
look of fury creasing his brow.  
  
Max and the van skidded to a halt in front of each other, as Nat  
  
jumped out to help Max into the back. Alex was already waiting with  
  
alcohol and bandages. "Hurry up!" Bos shouted as Nat slammed the  
  
sliding door shut. Bos had already gunned the van and was heading  
  
towards the Thin Man.   
  
The Thin Man was in shock. He had been played the fool, as he  
  
suddenly realized the extent of this set up. The Angels had been  
  
compromised and had joined the ranks with his enemies.   
  
Dylan was not with them and he let out a scream at her betrayal. And  
  
even though he could feel the tranquilizer start to take effect on his  
  
system; he knew that he would exact revenge. He gunned his bike,  
  
turned it around and sped out.  
  
"Alex! He's heading home! And he's looking mighty pissed!" Nat  
  
shouted back. "Yeah, I'm on it! She's not picking up!" Alex had her  
  
cell phone pressed to her head, frustrated that Dylan wasn't answering.  
  
"Look!" Max pointed through the windshield. The suv had just turned  
  
around and was speeding down the main access road from the industrial  
  
park.  
  
"Alright, folks! Hang on, we're going to follow that car!" Bos slammed  
  
his foot on the gas and they took off after the black suv.  
  
Dylan paused in her reading; there had been a war. An ancient war.   
  
The details weren't specific, but what she could glean from the  
  
various letters was that a kind of truce was about to happen. His  
  
parents were somehow key; their son, a living symbol of that new  
  
peace. But then his parents were murdered, hope for peace shattered....  
  
She went back to Vasilescu's shrine and pulled open the top drawer.   
  
News clippings with photos of his slain parents. The DA's  
  
investigation. Inconclusive and still open. The coroner's  
  
reports...she paused over cause of death. Bullet through the heart  
  
for her; one through the head for him. My God, he was a witness, she  
  
muttered, no wonder he was mute; traumatized by the murder of his  
  
parents before his eyes.  
  
She shuffled through some more papers. So, he's the mole! He's been  
  
feeding the Attorney General's office with the leads! She looked back  
  
up at Vasilescu's portrait and another piece clicked into place. This  
  
was a shrine for revenge, not adoration. Overwhelmed she sat down.   
  
But she didn't have long to rest as she looked up at the sound of a  
  
piercing scream. What the hell?!!  
  
The Thin Man appeared before her, towering; eye bloodied. And she  
  
gasped as he raised his cane; bringing it down with such force the  
  
floor cracked. Her eyes widened as the cane appeared to suck energy  
  
from the very ground. His eyes flamed blue and he had the look of  
  
hell about him as he hurled a huge ball of pulsing green fire at her.   
  
She shrieked and tried to jump up to dodge the attack; but its  
  
force knocked her off her feet and threw her against the bureau under  
  
Vasilescu's portrait. She gritted her teeth as the corner jabbed her  
  
in the side.   
  
He stopped. They faced each other. She wasn't hurt. Both  
  
simultaneously realizing that the necklace protected her. He sprang  
  
on her and pinned her against the bureau; clenching her shirt and  
  
ripping it down the middle.  
  
Buttons popped and rolled around the ground as Dylan gripped the  
  
wrists of the Thin Man. "What are you, f#@% nuts?!!" He clawed at her  
  
throat, trying to get his hands on it. But for some reason, couldn't  
  
get his fingers under the necklace. It hung heavily around her  
  
neck as he futilely grasped at it. Dylan pushed against his chest  
  
just enough to break their bodies apart and threw her knee into his  
  
crotch.  
  
Gasping for air and exhausted, he collapsed into the chair. "It's nice  
  
to know THAT at least still works!" Dylan gulped for breath as she  
  
clutched her scratched throat. They stared at each other across the  
  
room. For whatever reason, the necklace wouldn't come off for him.   
  
The Thin Man slumped in his chair and Dylan ran forward to catch him  
  
before he hit the floor. 


	11. Pursuit and Escape

Ally? Chapter 11  
  
"Bos! You're too close! It's kicking up too much dirt!" Nat held her  
  
sleeve over her mouth as she shouted across the van, trying to breathe  
  
through her nose.  
  
They had caught up to the black suv as it sped away from the  
  
industrial park. Dirt, stones and twigs flew into the van, glass  
  
glittered on the dashboard from the smashed windshield, skittering around.  
  
"Ok kids! I'm taking this off-road!" Bos swerved the van off the dirt  
  
road, trying to overtake the suv from the side.  
  
"Sit down, Max!" Alex commanded belatedly as he crashed to the floor  
  
in back. He groaned and just lay there, letting the van bump his body  
  
around. "Come on! Get onto the seat and lie down so I can look at you."  
  
His face was bloody and wan under the dirt and sweat. Alex took an  
  
alcohol wipe and started to dab at the cut over his eye.  
  
She let out a startled cry as the van shot forward, the force throwing  
  
her down and rolling her to the back. "Hey! Watch it up there!"  
  
Nat and Bos bounced in their seats as the path besides the road became  
  
bumpier. She grabbed Alex's gun bag and fished out a fresh clip.   
  
"That's right, baby girl! Shoot that mutha's tires out!" She propped  
  
her feet up on the dash in front of her and pushed back into the seat  
  
as she fired through the broken windshield.  
  
Bullets clanged and sparked as they ricocheted off the bumper and  
  
wheel wells. The suv was moving up and down too much for her to get a  
  
clear shot.  
  
Suddenly, the suv picked up more speed and Bos bore down on the gas  
  
pedal. "Forget it!" Alex clutched at the side of Bos's seat, swaying,  
  
"Let them go, we got other worries!" She shook Bos's leg "BOS! The  
  
damn engine's going to fall out!"  
  
"Jesus, would you look at that." Nat and Alex turned to follow Bos'  
  
gaze. The suv had managed to double, then triple, its distance in a  
  
few seconds. If it hadn't been for the huge empty horizon, it would  
  
have vanished, instead of flitting about in the distance-a tiny black  
  
speck.  
  
"Can we get one of those?" Bos said. "There's no car-no car! Let  
  
alone an suv, that can move like that!" He punctuated with a bang on  
  
the steering wheel.  
  
"Well, something tells me, we ain't in Kansas any more," Nat said  
  
grimly. "Bos, let Alex drive," Nat shot her a look. "Yeah, Bos, why  
  
don't you clean up Max and I'll get us to the clinic," Alex followed  
  
along.  
  
Bos moved into the back, "Hey kid, how are you feeling?" He picked up  
  
the bag of alcohol wipes and opened one.  
  
"I feel a little sick." "Well, you are-you're a little con-cuss-ed."  
  
He chuckled at his joke. "Seeing as you fell about three stories off  
  
that bridge."  
  
Max put his hand to his forehead,"Really? I fell hard, but it didn't  
  
seem that far." He turned his head to let Bos look at the scratches  
  
on his neck.  
  
"Boy, you've been hit a lot harder than I thought, then," Bos dabbed  
  
at the oozing scratches on his collarbone. "'Cuz you fell a long, long  
  
way down--"  
  
Nat climbed back, "What happened back there? We thought that the Thin  
  
Man was going to kill you."  
  
Bos paused in his dabbing,"Well, wasn't he--with that cane  
  
raised--looking like Satan himself?"  
  
"Wow, is that what happened?" Max knocked Bos' hand away from his  
  
forehead, "I'm fine, dammit!"  
  
"Oooo, you watch it, boy! You've got a concussion and that affects  
  
your brain!"   
  
"I'm telling you..." Max sat up slowly. "Look, something weird  
  
happened back there. The Thin Man--he saved me. He-he stopped-he  
  
stopped time!"  
  
Nat and Bos looked at each other, Alex glanced into the rear view mirror.  
  
Bos gently pushed Max back down onto the seat. "After we climbed the  
  
stairs in the second building, we sped over the bridge. There was  
  
this bright white light at the end. I thought it was just really,  
  
really bright 'cuz it's day. But I guess I didn't realize that the  
  
bridge was split. By the time I figured it out, I was already  
  
falling. Then-then there were these-these things. And the buzzing."   
  
Max and Bos shuddered at their respective memories. "Anyway, all I  
  
remember is that these things started to attack me- and I turned and  
  
saw the Thin Man with his cane raised-then everything stopped. And  
  
next thing you know it was like the sky-folded-or something. Then  
  
there was thunder and lightning and those things-there were so many of  
  
them I couldn't breathe- they were all over the bike and clinging to  
  
my legs-just flying everywhere. Then they disappeared and then I  
  
fell-but I only fell like 15 feet-nothing serious-just like at the  
  
Coal Bowl. My head hit the gas tank, though." Max gingerly rubbed the  
  
bump on his head, careful not to re-open the gash.  
  
He stopped and Alex slowed the van down a little,"What's that ringing?"   
  
"Dylan!" Nat got to her hands and knees, trying to follow the sound of  
  
the cell phone.   
  
"What the hell happened?" Dylan's voice was small and tinny. "Dylan,  
  
you've got to get out of there, we've run into a problem and Max's  
  
been hurt."  
  
"I'm fine, for God's sake!" Max shouted exasperatedly.  
  
"The Thin Man is coming--" Nat continued,"-what? What do you mean you  
  
already have it taken care of? But it's been- not even ten minutes!"   
  
She paused, "Right, well, can you hang for a couple of hours-we need  
  
to drop Max off at the clinic and then get some wheels. But I think  
  
we should move him before the others re-group. Ok, sit tight, and  
  
we'll see you soon."  
  
Dylan hung up the black ear piece onto the side of the antique  
  
phone,"Oh, don't you worry."   
  
She walked over to the bed, where the Thin Man lay spread-eagled-- and  
  
finished tying his wrist to the upper corner of the bed post. "We're  
  
going to be just fine." 


	12. Tied Up

Ally? Chapter 12  
  
Sitting on the side of the bed, she loosened his tie and undid the button of his starched shirt collar. Letting her hand rest on his chest, she gazed at his face. His skin was sallow; purplish shadows made sharp indents under his closed eyes.   
  
Dylan stood and leaned over him, reaching her hand into his suit jacket. What exactly does the Thin Man keep in his pockets? She let her hands linger inside the warm coat.  
  
Ooo, his lighter! Along with his dry cleaning slip. Dylan stuffed the slip back into his jacket and clasped the lighter in her hand for a moment-still warm from being close to his body. It was another beautiful piece of craftsmanship that the Thin Man owned. Made heavy by the silver casing, intricate vines finely detailed in a twisting, swirling pattern.   
  
She walked into the side room and paused for a moment looking at the silver tree box. It had a similar pattern. Though she was no expert, it looked like the lighter was made in a later period-and like the necklace, it had a modern, art nouveau feel to it. Perhaps---  
  
She picked up the cane that the Thin Man had dropped and sat on the chair where he had passed out. This lighter is incredible, she thought, flicking it open. She gazed into the blue flame and flicked the top back down. Peering closely at the lighter, she couldn't see any cracks or any indication that it was refillable.   
  
Walking over to the big silver box, she picked it up and brought it and the cane into the bedroom. As she set the box down she noticed that different parts of the box had been patched. Silver squares were beaten onto the form to accommodate for the large twisting arms of the tree. But it looked like some of the squares had been replaced with a different grade of silver-giving the box a rippling sinewy effect.   
  
The cane, the lighter, the box, the necklace. All of these are connected to the Thin Man and physically a part of this box in some way. Why are they made from the box? What is the significance of the box and what is that hunk of charcoal doing inside it?  
  
She flicked open the lighter again-perfect blue flame-and staring into it, put it under her open palm. Ow! Damn. Ok, that wasn't an illusion. It really is a lighter.  
  
The silver box must have great power-some kind of energy source for him, she theorized. Of course, the cane is a great source of power too-shivering as she recalled the way he used it earlier.  
  
His parents were murdered, ending hopes for peace to a long war; police let the case get cold, gets sent away to an orphanage and where a nun is secretly his aunt. Traumatized to the point that he never speaks. Ergo, he becomes an assassin. Hmmmm. Somewhere along the line, he got derailed from whatever it was he was supposed to do or be. And well, then that was the idea behind killing his parents. But if he's the main threat then why keep him alive too? Why not just kill him along with his parents? Did they mean to use him for something else? And who are they? Vasilescu or his aunt? Or both?  
  
The letters she had been reading certainly helped figure out some of the players in this mystery shrouding the Thin Man-but unfortunately, it didn't shed much light on him as a person. And she wondered how he could have stayed so close to someone like Vasilescu-as his right hand man even-and not let it get to him. To be so trusted by someone like that and all along secretly plot revenge? How must he have kept his sanity?  
  
She stopped, having paced at the foot of his bed and went back to his side--reaching into his inside pockets again. Aha! His cigarette case! Pulling it out, she was disappointed to see that it had a blank, sleek look to it. No fine detailing here. She sighed. She had to figure this out-at least come up with some kind of theory behind why the Thin Man had all of these things.   
  
What was the key to his mother's necklace? And speaking of keys, why did the mother superior have the key to this box? Damn! She was thinking in circles-craving a cigarette, she opened the case.  
  
Oh, right. Here we go, she thought, as she took in the silver inlaid mosaic. Same silver stuff. Was it protective? It looked hand-made, not finished with a professional hand. She looked over to his sleeping form. Was this the Thin Man's hand at metalcraft?  
  
Taking out a cigarette, she paused as a powdery grit clung to her fingertips. Hello! What crazy thing is this? She held it up to the light to examine it closer. It looked like a cigarette---she touched her tongue to it and inhaled. But it sure doesn't taste like one. What the hell? She dropped it on the table and ground it with her thumb. Tobacco leaves and gritty, powdery stuff. He didn't seem the type to be into illicit---well, ok. He was also an assassin with a pad full of pricey, stolen goods. I guess drugs would just be one more thing.   
  
But it didn't fit. Drug use was an escape. And he was too much in control to let anything like that potentially cripple him. Especially with a deep plan of revenge. With the exception of his hair fetish, he seemed in complete mastery of himself.  
  
And this was essential Thin Man. His cane, his control and his cigarettes. Take everything else away---she grinned wickedly. The last time that happened he kissed her. She dusted off her hands and arranged the items on the table.   
  
She was running out of time and needed answers. Turning around, she faced his still form, her body blocking the table. She kicked the foot of the bed hard with her heavy boot. "Hey! Wake up!" She still hadn't forgiven him for his attack, despite the way her heart melted when she had tenderly lugged him into his bed.  
  
His eyes opened slowly, his body quiet, "Please. I need a cigarette." His voice was raspy and thin, like a rusty hinge. He coughed a little and cleared his throat.  
  
Watching him closely, she moved to the side and saw his eyes widen as she slowly held up the skeleton key and lifted the cover to the tree box. It was fascinating to watch the play of emotions over the face of a man she originally knew to be a cold, ruthless killer. Recognition, elation, curiosity and then strangely--quiet indifference. Something about that piece of charcoal didn't surprise him. Yet, it seemed that he hoped to find something else.  
  
"You don't seem happy with your Cracker Jack prize. Care to share why?" He looked at her with disdain, but it wasn't quite as effective with his arms and legs tied to the posts.   
  
She jumped as he violently struggled for a moment. "Give me a cigarette. Please." She could detect a very faint accent. "Please. The longer I go without one---I don't know how it will affect me later."  
  
"Wow, so hair isn't your only little vice is it?" She strutted over to the bed, pulling another cigarette from the case and dangling it from her lips. Grinning, she watched his eyes follow her hand as she used the lighter. "Please. Don't inhale that. I don't know what it will do to you."   
  
"Oh, don't worry. I know about your little secret." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Here." She held the cigarette to his lips and he clamped down on it. A long, delicate ash grew precariously, a ring of red glowed close to his mouth. "Hey, slow down. It's like you're sucking soda through a straw. You plan on exhaling?"  
  
His pale blue eyes looked at hers and he smiled, "Later." She watched as he inhaled the smoke like fresh air and quickly lit another cigarette for him. He consumed three more in this manner before he finally waved her away with a flick of his head. "No. I feel better." Control, indeed!  
  
"I take it these are special cigarettes? How much do you pay for these? Oh, and anything more than 4 bucks a pack is outrageous." He laughed a little.  
  
"Well, then. Satisfying a nicotine craving does wonders for your temper, doesn't it?" She took another cigarette out and lit it, watching his reaction. "Please. Don't. Those cigarettes could be dangerous for you."   
  
"Why?" She closed her eyes and made a show of putting it in her mouth. She took a long drag and almost choked as she felt his hands grab tightly around her wrists. He pulled her towards him as he sat up, whispering, "Because a magician's son knows these things." She opened her eyes and tightly smiled, his face inches from hers.   
  
"Breathe it out." He shook her a little as if to dislodge it. She held her breath, shaking her head, determined to find out what it was that was so mysterious. "They just help me. Please! Breathe it out!"   
  
She let out a whoosh of thick, white smoke. "Gawd! That stuff is disgusting!" The smoke had a slight anise flavour to it, like stale Stella Dora cookies at an old lady's house.  
  
"I make them. They have been---treated---specially." "How long have you been smoking them?" "Ten years."  
  
"That's quite a habit." "I have been cutting down." "Really? When? Why?"   
  
The Thin Man lowered his lips to her neck, wrapped his arms around her body and slowly lowered her onto the bed. He looked down at her, propped up on his forearms--a long finger slowly twining itself around a lock of her auburn hair. Dylan laughed nervously, her hand on his wrist anticipating his move. She felt his knee move between her legs--  
  
"I have found a more effective antidote." 


	13. Almost there R

Ally? Chapter 13  
  
Sitting in a chair with long afternoon shadows cast across his face, Vasilescu looked across his desk at his silent, squirming men. He let them stand awkwardly, as he idly fingered the heavy gold ring on his thumb.   
  
They were starting to sweat; he could see the faint glow from their flushed, nervous skin as he coolly contemplated how to punish them. He was furious.  
  
And still he hadn't gotten what he wanted. Some of his best men were slaughtered, he lost his most powerful bargaining tool, the necklace, in the process and he had severely mis-calculated the importance of the orphan boy, Max.   
  
The boy didn't have the necklace and he had wasted valuable time chasing it. Time was running out. He stopped playing with his ring and smiled slowly. There was one more angle that he could play; one more chance to save everything.   
  
************************ The Thin Man gave a muffled laugh as he felt a bit of Dylan's hair get caught in his mouth. Their kisses were getting longer and wetter, barely stopping to breathe. Dylan twisted her mouth from his and held him back; her eyes glazed.  
  
He looked down--her reddish hair warm, fragrant, glinting, against the stark white pillow. Her mouth was open as she tried to catch her breath and he brought his head back down to her lips.   
  
He stopped kissing her and eyed the necklace, not daring to touch it. She smirked and he felt the wave of smug triumph from her mind. She was being affected by the necklace already--but he didn't know what would happen next. The necklace had chosen her and prevented him from claiming what was rightly his--and had been his-- since his mother had willed it to him.  
  
He had always assumed that the necklace would choose him--in fact had counted on it in his strategy of revenge. The necklace's power lay in its' omniscient ability to 'read' people and, with time and skill, to control time and space.   
  
And even though he didn't possess the necklace now, he was confident he would in the future. Perhaps it wouldn't matter in the long run. After all, killing Vasilescu only required a weapon, not a sentimental trinket; and controlling this angel won't be difficult.  
  
He smiled slightly and she hesitantly smiled back. She was so sweet. His tough, sweet angel. And now how would he be able to wrest this talisman from her neck? Her beautiful, sweet neck that curved all the way down...  
  
"Hey!" He ignored her laughing protest as he roughly grabbed handfuls of shirt and bra straps and yanked down. "You've ruined my clo....ohh!" Dylan's eyes closed and she sighed after a moment, "Come back up here..."   
  
Their mouths met again and he could feel her breasts through his shirt, the pressure of her legs wrapped around the back of his thighs. He must get this off! Their movements became more frenzied as they struggled with their clothes on his bed.   
  
He had managed to undo most of Dylan's buttons and zippers, but she lagged behind, struggling with the knot in his tie. He grunted as her hand slipped and knocked his jaw. But he silenced her effusive, mood-killing apologies with another hot, probing kiss.  
  
His need was building to a frenzied level. Nothing would stop him now. There would be no pursuing assassins to deal with, no surprise attacks, no exhausted Dylan that would prevent him from completely possessing her. Nothing that could possibly disturb them so far below the surface....  
  
"Mmph....wait. What's that ringing? Is that your phone?" Dylan pushed on his chest and paused with her head tilted towards the noise.   
  
The old antique phone was ringing and the Thin Man pushed Dylan back down on the bed as she tried to get up.   
  
Suddenly, there was dead air and a loud endless beep before a hesitant voice called out in the very quiet room, "Uh.....Hello?"  
  
"Shit, it's Nat!" The Thin Man let out a frustrated scream and pulled out a chunk of Dylan's hair as she shoved his body off to the side. He lay face down on the bed; defeated, an exasperated sigh escaped him.  
  
"Dylan!?" "It's okay, Nat!" Dylan shouted as she hobbled towards the phone. Her blouse was ripped and she struggled to re-zip the fly on her tight jeans.   
  
"It's okay!" She picked up the receiver,"I was just having issues with keeping the Thin Man under control." Ha! That was one way of putting it. She was having difficulty concentrating on what Natalie was saying--her face and body still warm from the heavy make-out session.  
  
Natalie was keeping her up to date, telling her where she needed to bring the Thin Man. But all the time Natalie spoke, Dylan felt that warm, fuzzy feeling she had in the arms of the Thin Man slowly slip away. And replaced by a growing sense of anxiousness the longer she was on the phone. The world was starting up again, and whether or not she and the Thin Man liked it, that world was demanding they get back on again.  
  
Dylan tersely repeated the important information and confirmed their arrival at the safe house, "Give us two hours."   
  
She paused as she hung up the phone. There was nothing more she wanted right now than to climb in that bed with him, burrow under the covers and stay there making love all night.  
  
She sighed as she looked down at the complete disrepair of her clothes. Somehow, yet again, the Thin Man had managed to almost get her completely naked without himself removing any clothes. One of these days, it's going to be the other way around, she thought.  
  
Frustrated, she collapsed on the bed, burying her teeth into his back. He sucked in his breath sharply. Her sharp teeth managed to sink through the layers of fabric and he knew that later he would have a circular purple bruise.  
  
She had held him like that for a moment, while he lay still, momentarily taken by surprise. He didn't know quite what to make of this. She let him go, "Don't make me hurt you. You're coming with me." She delicately picked off some fibers from the suit off her tongue.  
  
He rolled over. His eyebrow cocked at her. "What? Don't look at me like that. I'm not like you, where I bite everyone I meet."   
  
She walked over to the table and gathered up the box,"You better get the rest of your stuff." She looked so sad--but it was back to business. Their little world had come to an end. He lay there and smiled, trying to savor these last moments.   
  
He cocked an eyebrow at her again and slowly got off the bed; his gaze moving over her disheveled body.   
  
"And no funny business." 


	14. Calm before the storm

Dylan was puffing--out of breath-- by the time they climbed into her dusty Toyota pick-up. She'd restrained herself from goofiness as they both walked away from the access staircase--nervously glancing over to him---her eyes skittering away as he coolly looked back at her.   
  
But this time it was different--different than those times before-like in Knox's living room. No, this time the Thin Man's eyes crinkled a little--and she interpreted this as the self-satisfied gloat of a man who expected other good things to happen. She squinted as she turned on the windshield wipers and fluid--trying to clean it off. So, even the Thin Man needed lovin'--and what makes him better than any other bad guy?   
  
He's certainly not going to hesitate if it means between choosing you or this necklace, she thought crossly. Why should I give him the satisfaction of fooling around too? She looked over and frowned at him. Well, he's got another thing coming if he thinks I make the same mistake twice! Or three times. Or four times. Shit! Thinking over her many past indiscretions, she floored it and the truck kicked up some dirt as the Thin Man calmly buckled his seatbelt.   
  
He kept his eyes on the dirty floor in front of him. He'd seen her frown and wondered if she realized how transparent she was to him. But how he could read her didn't matter as much any more. Especially when she'll be able to read you quite clearly soon enough, he thought.  
  
The Thin Man turned his cigarette case over and over in his hands. He honestly felt that he didn't need a cigarette right now--it was amazing. Just being with her was the cure---it seemed enough. But will it be tomorrow? When she wakes up and sees how you really are--what you truly look like--will it be enough?  
  
For the first time in a long time, the Thin Man felt anxious. Not the nervous excitement he felt before going out on assignment--but the kind of anxiety he felt when he was a child at the orphanage.   
  
He wanted to please her--yes, that was it. He actually wanted to please her--wanted to do something for her--to show her that everything was all right and that it was o.k. to be with him. He reached down and picked up her slightly crunched and very dusty straw cowboy hat off the seat.  
  
Dylan looked over and quirked her eyebrow at him. What was he doing? She smirked at the way he held the hat--away from his suit, the brim delicately pinched between thumb and forefinger.   
  
He gestured toward the hat and tried to smile.   
  
She smiled slowly--was this the Thin Man's way of idle 'conversation' to cover some uncomfortable silence? Jeez--was it that bad? And since when did silence become uncomfortable for him?  
  
"That's Alex's. I 'borrowed' it last year and haven't returned it yet." His eyebrows went up and he nodded understandingly. He gestured towards her shirt---"Yep, this is hers too. She's goin' to kill me." He started grin.  
  
Dylan smiled back widely--what was it she was thinking before? She couldn't remember--not with the Thin Man sitting in her front seat grinning so widely. "O boy, I can't even imagine what your thinking." She laughed as he cocked an eyebrow at her.   
  
He rolled down the window and stuck his hand out. The sun was setting, filling the sky with bright fiery red streaks. The wind buffeted against his outstretched arm. He felt happy--and happy that he could make her happy, even for this short moment.  
  
The Thin Man looked back at Dylan, a halo of burnished hair softly whipping about her face. They caught each others eyes again and laughing aloud, the Thin Man picked up the hat and firmly put it on his head; imitating the way he'd seen cowboys do it in the movies.  
  
Dylan laughed and laughed and for his part, he continued to grin stupidly. Her laughter slowly faded---but she kept looking at him. So intently. Like suddenly she could see him the way he truly was.  
  
His grin faded too. One more night wearing the necklace. He was certain that was all it would take--one more night and then she would have the gift. He became afraid and reached over to grab her hand.  
  
She jumped a little. When he put on that hat and smiled and laughed--it took her breath away. She was suddenly transported to a thousand other places far from here--where they were together and just going for a drive. He was a beautiful sight to behold. She'd never seen anyone like him let his guard down like that--she squeezed his hand. Dylan was grateful to him for that--for trying in his way to put her at ease.  
  
Hands clasped, they drove towards the sunset in silence. 


	15. Unholy Alliance

Fog swirled around the small island; enveloping the orphanage and the adjacent convent. It seemed thick enough to grab hold of, if one could manage it. A shifting, silent mass, it's thinning parts made solid by the black night. Only the quiet, intermittent lap of the waves told the watchful mother superior that there was a larger world out there beyond her own.  
  
She slowly drew the heavy curtain across the window, pausing before turning to face her midnight visitor.  
  
"You're asking me to betray the only family I have left--your audacity amazes me."   
  
She continued, "And it angers me. You're involvement in the murder of my sister...and your brother-"  
  
"And your involvement?" Vasilescu asked, folding his hands calmly over his crossed legs. "Their deaths were pre-destined. Once the machine was set in motion nothing could save them-"  
  
"Entirely preventable and unnecessarily brutal--," her voice shook as she began to pace under the portrait of Eve.  
  
"It was beyond our control. The decision was made--besides," he shrugged, "we were so young then-what did we know?" He idly crossed his arms.  
  
"And we aren't accountable?"   
  
"We can't change the past."  
  
She slapped the desk, "We're here precisely because of that possibility!"   
  
"Yes. And for those talismans to fall into Anthony's hands would be exceptionally detrimental for both of us."  
  
"And why should we worry?" She leaned over the desk and jabbed her finger at Vasilescu, "YOU! You turned him into a homicidal killing machine. To do your foul deeds--and for what?! For whores and guns and MONEY!!"  
  
"You had your chance to 'mold' him into a proper supplicant of the Way. And you failed. Miserably." He should just kill her and get it over with, but she would be useful later.  
  
"He thinks I'm the one that informed! He thinks I led the Council to the hideout and let my sister be killed!!"  
  
"Oh. Well, didn't you?"   
  
"Damn you. Anthony is still a good man. Despite the depraved things you've made him do for you--"  
  
"Made? Ha!" Vasilescu snorted loudly. "I pointed a little in one direction and the boy took off galloping. He was born a killer, never mind a king. And nothing will change that--and if we don't work together, he'll soon be an omnipotent killer."  
  
Vasilescu stood and leaned forward on the desk, "You can reason with him. Get him to give you the key back again. For safe keeping. You can still convince him that he's not ready. And there's the girl--"  
  
"Girl?", she startled.   
  
"Yes, the red-headed one. He's developed an interest in her. Perhaps if you can convince her that the necklace belongs with you--you can prevent her giving it to him."  
  
"And what if she loves him?"   
  
"Then it will already be too late. She'll give him the necklace and we'll be done for. He will kill us for revenge and then--god knows what!"  
  
He calmed himself, "You know what he will then do, right? He'll kill us and use our blood to open the portal-"  
  
"Yes, he'll go back to save his parents--"   
  
"And that can't HAPPEN!" He shouted. He couldn't hold it in anymore--the fear was starting to gnaw at him.  
  
"And why not? Oh, I see. That's right. Then your brother would have found out that you were informing on the community--that his own brother was a coward! A turn coat!"  
  
He backed away; she drew herself up and continued, "You would probably have preferred being killed instead of the pity that he would have shown you. That they both would have shown you. His insignificant, jealous and greedy FLEA! of a brother. No wonder you don't want Anthony to succeed."  
  
A silence stretched a bit before he answered, "All that may be true. But he still blames you for much of what he suffered at the orphanage."  
  
"What could I do?! The mother superior forbade that I tell him who he truly was--" she stopped short. Finally realizing the full extent that she failed him. She had driven him away from a good path and onto an evil one. All because of her 'pride and integrity' told her not to disobey.   
  
And she hadn't disobeyed. But at what cost? She looked into the cool blue eyes of her nemesis. "I will help you." 


End file.
